


I Found Out

by AppleScruff



Category: The Beatles
Genre: F/M, M/M
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2016-04-22
Updated: 2017-08-17
Packaged: 2018-06-03 20:16:05
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 8
Words: 23,876
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/6624691
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/AppleScruff/pseuds/AppleScruff
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>John Lennon had it all planned out perfectly, he was in his early twenties and fully committed to his band. They just had to get their breakthrough, the limelight was calling him. Someday he would start a family, but that day was still far away.</p><p>Everything changes however when his aunt becomes the victim of a gruesome attack. The sudden loss is not the only obstacle: his girlfriend and one of his band mates end up in the hands of some nut job, who is delusional enough to believe that John is the son of Captain America.</p><p>Now it’s up to John and his other band mate Paul McCartney to rescue two people they care about before they too are murdered.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Misery

The hooded man sends the child running back to the house. One glance of the man skulking in the shadows- trying his best not to be seen – is enough to invoke fear in the little boy.

The man curses- kick himself mentally- for making such a mistake. He’s supposed to blend in, be seen by no one so he can take his victims by surprise but now he’s been seen by a child and now he has to alter his plan. He can’t wait until the boy and the girl have left, he has to act now. He’s going to have to kill the spares.

The watch on the man’s wrist beeps, signaling that it has received an incoming call. His bosses want an update on the mission.

Fuck.

The man press the button that will connect him to his bosses. With a rapidly beating heart, he presses the wristwatch to his ear and whispers into it, “M here.”

“Are you in position?” one of his bosses asks. The voice of the man on the other side of the line is rough, worn thin by the smoking of cigarettes. It’s one of the higher-ups, which doesn’t surprise the man in the field, seeing as how important this mission is.

Which was one of the reason why he was so surprised that he was chosen to do this, kidnap the aunt and leave behind the note for the boy to find. It was going to be the man’s first mission in the field, surely they should’ve send a more qualified agent.

But no, they’ve chosen him. Now the future of the organization is his to secure. If he succeeds, the organization finally has the opportunity to rise from the ashes again, like its name promises. But if he fails, he will create a powerful enemy who might end the organization for good.

And things have already gone to shit. He has already fucked up and now he’s going to need to improvise. But first, he needs to tell his boss that he needs to act now and by doing so admit to his incompetence.

“I was spotted. I need to go in, right now,” the man hisses into the wristwatch. He would like to throw up, but he swallows the bile back down. Maybe if the mission is an success, they will forgive him for his little screw-up.

“What,” the boss hisses, anger making his voice grow cold.

“There are two other people inside, but I’ll kill them,” the agent promises.

His eyes are on the house. He’s watching the curtain, hoping he’ll catch a glimpse of the boy or the girl leaving.

“No killing,” the boss barks, taking the man by complete surprise. He tears his eyes away from the window and focuses them on the wristwatch. His eyebrows are furrowed in confusion.

“What? Why not?”

“Take the other two too. They may proof even better leverage then the aunt,” the boss tells his employee. “I don’t want any of them killed tonight, is that understood?”

“Yeah, boss,” the man replies.

“I will send the car to the designated spot. Don’t screw it up,” the boss barks at the man, as if he needs the reminder that he can’t fail this mission.

“I won’t,” the man promises.

While the man switches the wristwatch off and starts preparing to pull off a kidnapping, his victims-to-be are not aware of the danger they’re in. They’re not aware of the man skulking around the house as they sit on the sofa, drinking tea.

The aunt who looks to be about  fifty years old, is seated on one couch, a cup of tea in one hand as she looks disapprovingly at the occupants of the other couch.

Those occupants are a boy and a girl. The boy has brown hair that looks almost black, dark brown eyes and cheekbones that seem able to cut glass. He’s dressed in jeans and a leather jacket over a white shirt. The shoes on his feet are Cuban heels. The girl has short blonde hair, brown eyes and skin that is only a tad darker than that of the boy. She’s wearing a blouse and a skirt that is long enough to reveal her calves but not her knees. Both of them look uncomfortable under the aunt’s scrutiny.

The girl is Cynthia Powell, girlfriend of the nephew of the woman sitting opposite her. She has never felt more uncomfortable in her life or as scared. She feels the urge to throw up and she’s trying her best to fight it. The other woman will skin her alive if she ruins the carpet.

Cynthia knows she should probably go. She doesn’t know if she can spend another second in this hostile environment. Besides, she should probably tell John her news some other time. George has told Cynthia that he was at the house because John had announced that he wanted the band to practice today. John has other things on his mind. She should probably tell him the big news some other day.

Just as Cynthia takes a breath to tell Mimi she’s going to come back tomorrow, the doorbell rings. Mimi lets a sigh escape between her lips and she sets down her cup of tea.

“If you’ll excuse me,” she apologizes, only to be polite of course. She doesn’t care if George or Cynthia actually minds her leaving them alone in the living room.

When Mimi exits the living room, Cynthia turns to George. The boy turns to her as well and pulls his lips into a smile. “Well, this is awkward.”

“Yeah,” Cynthia snickers. Then she takes a deep breath before asking, “I’m going to go. You don’t mind, do you?”

Cynthia doesn’t really want to leave George at the mercy of John’s aunt, but she doesn’t really have a choice. She really needs to throw up and if she does it here, Mimi will ask her questions she doesn’t want to answer after she’s done yelling at Cynthia for ruining her carpet.

“I can take Mimi on. Don’t you worry,” George assures Cynthia with a grin.

“Hey, you can’t just…” Mimi’s voice suddenly yells from the corridor and then a loud bang echoes against the walls, making both Cynthia and George almost jump off of the couch.

Eyes wide, both George and Cynthia watch the doorway. Cynthia’s heart is beating violently against her chest and her hands have started to sweat.

What is God’s name is going on?

And then Mimi walks into the living room, eyes wide with fear and face ghostly pale. And right behind her is a large man. He has dark hair and sharp blue eyes that look menacing at Cynthia and George.

“Not a sound or I’ll shoot her in the back,” the man warns the two people he isn’t holding at gunpoint.

The man pushes Mimi further into the room. George and Cynthia watch him with scared eyes. They don’t dare make a sound, afraid it would set the man off.

Cynthia may have thought a few minutes ago that she wouldn’t ever be more scared in her life, but that uncomfortable moment seems like a walk in the park in comparison with the situation she’s now in. There’s a man with a gun in the house, who may end up killing her, George and Mimi.

“Sit down,” the man barks at Mimi. She does what she’s told.

The man sits down next to Mimi, the gun in his hand still trained on Mimi, and turns to George and Cynthia. “You girl, bind the boy’s wrist.”

He tosses Cynthia a bit of rope that he has pulled from his rucksack. Cynthia catches it and with a heart that feels like it’s about the free itself from her chest, she binds George’s wrists. She catches his eyes and tries to convey with hers that she’s sorry for what she’s doing. All she gets back from him is fear. George seems to be even more scared then her.

“You, bind her wrist,” the man tells Mimi and he hands her a bit of rope. Mimi takes as she looks at the man with a look of disdain on her face. The man grabs her arm and pulls her with him as he gets off of the couch.

The man pushes her forward with one hand, in Cynthia’s direction, while his other hand keeps the gun pointed at Mimi’s back.

Suddenly, Mimi turns around and grabs the man by his arm, taking him by complete surprise. It only takes the man a second to get over his confusion. He grabs Mimi by her hair and pulls at it as she tries to grab his pistol.

Both refuse to let go. Mimi looks defiantly at the man that is trying to hurt her, letting him know she’s not afraid of him. The man glares at her before he tears his arm from her grip.

He whacks her across the face with the butt of his gun. There’s a snap as her cheekbone breaks. Mimi, who has been strong up until now, cries out in pain.

However, she isn’t done with fighting back. She lifts her foot and kicks the man in the shine. He curses in pain, but doesn’t let go of her.

“You know what, I’ve had enough,” the man hisses. He presses his face closer to Mimi’s and looks at her with madness in his eyes. “You’re more use to me dead.”

He lets go of her hair. Without any support to hold her up, Mimi falls to the ground. She lets out a yelp as her back collides with the floor.

The man doesn’t blink as he aim the gun at Mimi and fires.

A scream of pure fear erupts from between Cynthia’s lips as Mimi is shot in front of her eyes. Her eyes grow huge and tears start running down her cheeks as brown eyes suddenly become lifeless.

“Now you’re a warning,” the man murmurs. His eyes are cold as he looks at the woman he’s just killed.

The man turns around and walks towards Cynthia. He has his gun pointed at the floor, the threat of a pointed gun no longer necessary now that there’s a dead body.

Cynthia’s hands tremble violently as the man kneels down in front of her and with his gun in hand, binds her wrists.

“What do you want from us?” George dares to ask with a trembling voice.

The man focuses his eyes on the boy sitting next to Cynthia. “We want John Lennon.”

The boy in question has no idea about what is going on inside his aunt’s house. He and one of his best mates Paul have just come back from the record shop and are on their way to John’s home.

“Can’t wait until they sell our record,” John announces, a grin on his face. He has one arm thrown around Paul’s neck and Paul has his arm wrapped around John’s waist.

They look a bit like drunken sailors as they swerve across the pavement. None of them have drank a large amount of alcohol, though. They’re just drunk with giddiness and excitement.

As long as John can remember, he’s wanted to become someone famous. At first, he had wanted to become a famous writer, one who would be read by generations to come and girls would go potty over. But then he’d found out about rock’n’roll and ever since then, he’s wanted to become a rock’n’roll star.

That dream is fetting closer and closer to becoming reality. John can feel it in his bones. They now have a proper manager, they have had a lot of experience and whenever they play their own songs, people love them. It’s only a question of time before they get a recording contract. They may have tanked their           Decca audition but John knows with their new manager, something like that won’t happen again.

“Me neither,” Paul admits with a sigh. His eyes glaze over and he doesn’t say anything for a few minutes. John eyes wander to his mate’s face and as the two boys walk on they remain focused on the small wound where Paul has nicked himself with a razor.

“We’re going to be big, John. I can just feel it.”

Paul has just voiced what John has always felt, has always known. He is too big for Liverpool, he _and_ his band. They were born to be stars, known throughout England and even beyond.

“Of course we are,” John scoffs. He has one eyebrow raised as his and Paul’s eyes meet.

John grins at Paul and the younger man grins back. They must look like lunatics to people walking by but John couldn’t give two shites. He never does.

“We’re going to the top,” John yells, pumping his fist in the air. Paula snickers and John snickers with him. People walking past them stare at the two boys. John stares right back.

“But let us go home first,” Paul proposes, his lips pulled back in a cheeky grin. “I’m starving.”

Now that Paul has mentioned food, John’s stomach suddenly starts to rumble, as if it too is reminded that John hasn’t eaten since this morning. They have been far too occupied with strolling around town to have lunch and now it’s already five o’clock and the sun is about to set.

“She’ll probably blame me for you being away all day?” Paul murmurs. He presses his teeth into his lower lip, making it turn white. Mimi doesn’t like John walking around town, doing nothing. She’s always been a fan using ones day productively.

What she isn’t a fan if, is Paul. Even though Mimi likes Paul better then George or Cyn, she still isn’t really fond of him. She likes that he has nice manners, but at the end of the day, Paul is still an corruptive influence. He’s in John’s band, which means he’s contributing to John’s ill-conceived wish to become a rock’n’roll star.

Luckily for John and all others involved, Mimi had warmed up to the idea a little when Brian had decided to manage them. He had come by a week ago to tell Mimi that he was planning to help her nephew’s band get a recording contract. He had been so well mannered and he had talked like the people on the BBC. Mimi had liked him and had been convinced that John maybe did have a chance at making a living out of music.

But still, even with her new view on John’s dreams for the future, she hadn’t changed her opinion on either Paul or George. But John knows it’s only because her change of heart is only recent. He’s convinced that she will grow to like George and Paul eventually, especially when they band is successful.

They’ve almost reached the house. They only have to walk down two more streets. For some reason, John is getting antsy. He doesn’t know why but he feels compelled to walk quicker, increase his pace so he’ll reach his home sooner.

“What’s your hurry,” Paul asks with a chuckle. John is dragging him down the street, their arms still wrapped around each other.

“I don’t know.” John shrugs his shoulders nervously.  He drops his arm from Paul’s shoulders and increases his pace even more. Now he’s all but running. “For some reason I feel like I really need to be home, right now.”

“Hey, John. Slow down,” Paul calls out. John can hear the worry in his voice. Paul increases his pace as well and within seconds he’s walking next to John again. “What do you… Why do you…?”

“I don’t know, okay,” John barks at Paul. His eyes wander to the other boy and he glares at him  for a full second before his eyes  focus once again on the sidewalk in front of John.

Only one street to go.

John doesn’t look at the traffic as he crosses the street. He doesn’t have time to worry about safety right now. John can hear Paul curse behind him as he follows him.  

“John, stop acting so irrational,” Paul yells at John. His friend ignores him, keeps his eyes in front of him. “You could’ve gotten yourself killed.”

“But I didn’t, did I,” John reminds Paul, voice angry. “No hush.”

They don’t have to cross another street top get to Mendips. One of the neighbors is lurking in front of their windows when Paul and John arrive at the house. Paul can see the curtain move.

John is about to walk to the front door, Paul hot on his heels when the neighbor in question opens their door and runs towards them. She’s a pretty woman, a young mother and she looks scared, her eyes wide and face ashen.

“There was some creepy follow lurking outside the house. Me child saw him, he did. And a few moments ago there was a shot. I heard it, called the police right away. And then I went back to the window as saw the man leave with a girl and a boy.” All of it is said in a rush, through lips pressed together with fright.

John’s face becomes ashen, like his neighbor’s and then he’s off like a bullet. He runs to the front door – ignoring the shrill protests of the young woman – , unlocks it and then runs inside. Paul is right behind him.

“John, I don’t think…,” Paul starts but John cuts him off with a wave of his hand.

With a heart that’s beating a mile a minute, John walks to door that leads to the living room. His hands are trembling as he presses the door open.

John _knows_ that someone has been shot and that there’s a chance that that person is dead, but he’s still unprepared for the sight of his aunt lying lifeless on the floor, a pool of blood spreading slowly around her.

“No,” John screams as despair grabs a hold of him.

All John can hear is a buzzing in his ear as he runs towards his aunt. He crashes to his knees beside her and grabs her body.

John doesn’t try to wake Mimi, doesn’t plead her to stay alive. He knows his aunt and guardian is dead.

A few second later, John can feel Paul sink to his knees next to him. He lays one hand on John’s shoulder. “You should lay her back down. It’s important that the crime scene remains as unaltered as possible.”

Paul is trying to be rational and John knows that’s the way he’s supposed to behave, the way Mimi would’ve wanted him to behave. In Liverpool, you remain detached from the loss. You don’t show emotion as long as you’re not alone.

So, knowing that’s what he’s supposed to do, even if he doesn’t want to, John lays his aunt’s body back down. As he does so, a note falls on John’s lap. It must’ve lain on Mimi’s chest when John had taken her into his arms.

John picks it up with trembling hands. The blood coating John’s hands leaves red fingerprints on the white paper, smudging some of the text written on it. But John is still able to read what the murderer wrote on the small piece of paper.

 

**John Lennon, son of Captain America,**

**We know who you are.**

**We have two people who are dear to you. If you want your friend and your sweetheart to live, you need to do exactly as we say.**

**Go to America. Go to the state Tennessee and  wait in the hotel Durtmond for further instructions. Don’t get S.H.I.E.L.D., the police or any other such organizations involved or your friend and sweetheart will befall the same fate as your aunt.**

**We expect you at the hotel within two weeks. If you don’t show up, your friend and sweetheart will pay the price.**

**Heil Hydra**


	2. Hold Me Tight

A small green car is speeding down an almost deserted road. It’s occupants: a boy, a girl and a man in the backseat. Another man is driving. Cynthia and George are the girl and boy in the backseat and their kidnapper is sitting next to them. He has put away his pistol, now that the hands of his prisoners are bound.

George doesn’t know where they’re being taken. The blindfold covering his eyes has made sure of that. What he _does_ know is that he’s never been this scared in his life. Someone he knows has been shot right in front of him and her murderer has taken him and his friend hostage. He’d be a fool not to be scared.

The girl sitting next to him is thrown against him as the car drives over a pothole. She lets out a humph on impact. George can feel her tremble as their arms touch. Cynthia is as scared as he is. She doesn’t, however, seek comfort in the connection, instead, she sits straight again the moment she finds her balance.

There is nothing that George can do to comfort her. With his hands bound, he can’t put an arm around her nor can he tell her that everything is going to be alright, with their kidnappers being in the car with them. They’d tell George to shut up and would probably torment Cynthia with cruel words.

The man sitting next to him and the one in the driver seat are talking to each other in German. Even though George was never taught the language at school, he did pick up quite a few words when he was in Germany with the band. George sort of understands what they’re talking about.

What George can gather from the conversation is that the men are taking them to Speke Airport. They plan on putting him and Cynthia on a plane to South America. That’s probably where the leader they keep mentioning lives.

But why? What does Hydra want with John? And why kidnap him and Cynthia to get to him? All the answers are probably on the note that the kidnapper left behind for John to find. George had tried to read it but he been dragged away by the kidnapper before he could read it in its entirety. All he had been able to discover was that the man who killed Mimi was part of Hydra, the scientific branch of the Nazi government.

During the war, not a lot was known about Hydra. All that people knew was that some Nazis were performing experiments in prisoners and that they shared their findings with their government. Only after the war, did people find out that they were organized. That there was an organization created by the Fürer himself to help him perfect the human species as well as look for mystical objects.

George had been told that Hydra had been defeated. They organization had been destroyed together with the rest of the Nazi regime and one of the key players in their destruction had been Captain America. The people that are in the car with him and Cynthia aren’t supposed to exist. And yet they do. They are either indeed a part of a supposed dead organization or they believe they are. Either George’s father was wrong or the men in the car are nuts. George doesn’t know which option is worse.

There’s a sharp intake of breath to George’s right. He can feel a soft pressure against his shoulder as Cynthia presses her shoulder up against his. This isn’t Cynthia losing her balance, this is her seeking out George’s touch to comfort her.

George presses his hands against Cynthia’s thigh and strokes the bare skin. In any other circumstance, George would have been turned on by touching her there, so close to the hem of her skirt but right now, George feels anything but horny.

It seems to work. George can feel Cynthia relax beneath his hands. Something swells inside his chest. Something that feels like pride.

“Stop touching,” the man sitting next to them barks. Apparently, they are not allowed to comfort each other.

George reluctantly lifts his hand from Cynthia’s thighs and curses his own cowardice while doing so. He should refuse to stop touching Cynthia. She needs him. But instead, he does as he’s told, like a cowardly boy. George is nineteen, he’s supposed to be a man.

It may be an hour later or only half of one when the car stops. George can hear the sound of planes taking off in the background. They’ve arrived at the airport.

First there’s the sound of a door opening and then George is grabbed roughly by his arm and dragged across the backseat, almost tripping as he’s forced to exit the car.

The wind is cold, painful against George’s pale skin. He sucks in a sharp breath at the unpleasant sensation.

“Come on,” the man grunts and yanks at George’s arm, forcing the boy to start walking. It seems that they’re in a hurry to get to the plane.

As George is dragged to wherever the plane is, he can feel the urge to cry out for help bubble up inside of him. But he knows the man will shoot him if he does. Help will come too late. He would pout Cynthia in more danger than she already is. No, George is going to stay quiet.

With legs trembling, George allows the man to take him to the plane. He doesn’t have to walk too far and before he knows it, he’s walking up the stairs that probably lead to the entrance of the plane.

Once inside – George can tell they have entered the plane by the rise in temperature and by the lack of wind – George is pushed further into the plane and onto the ground. His blindfold is removed as soon as he sits down. The first thing he sees is his kidnapper’s grumpy face.

One of the corners of his mouth travels upwards, resulting in a lopsided grin. “Have a nice flight.”

The kidnapper has a face that no bird would find attractive. He has a large forehead and small watery green eyes. It doesn’t help either that he has a scar that runs from his blonde left eyebrow to the left corner of his mouth.

George sees Cynthia in the corner of his eyes as she’s dumped on the ground next to him. She has tears in her eyes and her lips are trembling. She’s on the edge of bursting into tears and there’s nothing that George can do about it.

Another man, who was probably the one who drove the car, takes off Cynthia’s blindfold and grins at her. His blue eyes have a menacing gleam in them as he watches Cynthia tremble, “Say hello to our Führer for us.”

The man turns around and walks towards the exit. His ugly colleague follows behind him. The door falls closed behind them.

“Cyn, are you alright?” George asks. He turns his head and looks at his friend with worried eyes.

She doesn’t look at him. Tears start to trickle down her pale cheeks as she closes her eyes. “I’m scared.”

“Hey, we’re going to be alright,” George assures Cynthia. He turns his whole body towards her and leans closer. He can smell the perfume that she’d put on this morning and that has started to fade. For a moment, George forgets what he was going to say.

But then Cynthia lets out a sob and suddenly, George remembers. His voice is soft and hopefully soothing as he says, “They’re not going to hurt us. They need us if they want to get to John.”

“John’s not going to come, George.” Cynthia shakes her head while her eyes travel to her bound hands. “He’s not going to risk his life for us. He isn’t the type of person to do something like that.”

“Hey, John is a good person,” George protests. His eyebrows are furrowed and his mouth is set in disapproval.

How can Cynthia say that John is not going to do anything to ensure his and her safety? John is a good person and he’s not afraid of anything. That is what George has always admired about him. That and the ease with which John talks to girls.

“Yeah, he is. But he isn’t brave. Not like that.” Cynthia bites her lip. Her face is soaked with tears. “He doesn’t show weakness, sure, and he doesn’t back out of a fight with other boys, but risking his life for others. It’s something he’ll be too afraid to do.”

“Why do you think that?” George asks, eyebrows furrowed in confusion.

Surely, Cynthia doesn’t have first-hand knowledge. Cynthia’s life has never been in danger, has it? Is there something terrible that happened to John and Cyn that George doesn’t know?

“Almost all people are like that,” Cynthia replies. She lets out a sigh. She finally able to breathe now that the tears have slowed down. “It’s self-preservation. People are brave until their lives are in danger.”

“What about the soldiers? What about all the people who risked their lives to kill the Jerry’s?” George’s voice has gone up a notch, both in volume as well as pitch.

“If they didn’t, the Jerry’s would have come to England and killed them. It’s all self-preservation.”

George can’t believe what Cynthia is saying. Does she really believe this? That people are selfish, unwilling to risk their own lives for other people?

“Well, if John won’t rescue us, the American police will. Don’t worry. We’ll be rescued before you know it.”

\---

John is slowly creating a circle in the carpet on Paul’s bedroom floor. He has been pacing the room well over an hour now. His hair is a mess and his eyes are wide with distress and red with the lack of sleep. John hadn’t been able to sleep a wink.

It breaks Paul’s heart to see his friend like this. John used to be cool and collected all the time and now he’s breaking down, falling apart. His friend is in pain and there’s nothing Paul can do about it.

Unlike when John had lost his mother, Paul doesn’t know what John is going through right now. Paul doesn’t know how it feels to lose the only family he has left. He still has his father, his brother and his aunts. John has nobody left except his half-sisters and his step-father.

No, Paul can’t imagine what John is feeling right now. There are no words of comfort Paul can offer him, no advice he can give his friend. All Paul can do is be a listening ear, a shoulder to cry on.

John sits down on the bed with a huff. Paul watches him as he runs a hand through his hair and presses his eyes closed. It’s no mistaking what he’s doing, John is holding back his tears. He doesn’t want to cry with Paul there.

A sigh escapes between John’s lips and he opens his eyes again. He stares at the air in front of him, brow creased as he thinks. “Why the hell do they think I’m the son of Captain America? He never went to England, did he?”

Even though Captain America was an American hero – like his name suggests – here in England, people knew him too. He’d been the beacon of hope for all the allied forces. He didn’t only inspire the American troops, but the armies of all the allied troops.

“There were some American troops stationed here, remember,” Paul reminds John. He doesn’t really understand why he’s telling John this, it isn’t like he truly believes that there is a chance that John is the son of Captain America. If he was, surely he would have a more toned body and be much stronger than he is.

“Yeah, but my mum never met him. She would tell me if she had,” John protests. He’s shaking his head and his hands are balled into fists on his thighs. “She wouldn’t lie about who my father was. Freddie Lennon is my father.”

Paul walks towards the bed with cautious steps and sits down on the bed, next to John. He doesn’t look at John, instead like his friend he stares at nothing. It’s easier for Paul to talk to John like this.

“You’re right. Your mother wouldn’t lie,” Paul agrees. John’s mother and aunt may have lied to John when he was young –they hadn’t been honest about why he lived with his aunt instead of his mother - but when he had grown older and he and his mother had reconnected, both had come clean about everything. Julia had told her son all the things he wanted to know about his father as well as everything he wanted to know about her. She would have told him if his father was someone like Captain America.

“But why do those crazy bastards think I am?” John exclaims and he throws his hands into the air, almost hitting Paul in the face. Paul’s reflexes are quick enough to dodge the threshing limb.

“I don’t know,” Paul admits and he shakes his head.

“Not that it matters,” John grumbles. He lowers his arms, lets them fall on the bed with a thump. “They have Cyn and George. And now I have to go to America or otherwise they’re going to be killed.”

“Are you going?” Paul asks. He turns his head to look at John.

John's eyes find Paul’s. Auburn eyebrows furrow above light brown eyes. “Well, I’m not going to sit around and do nothing while the police try to save Cyn and George. You know I can’t.”

Paul does know that John can’t. His friend isn’t someone who sits still when things need to be done. John is a man of action, especially when it concerns someone or something he cares about.

“But the police are right, though. We can’t go to America to save them. We’ll get all four of us killed.”

Even though the note had stated that they couldn’t get the police involved, the neighbor had already called them. They had arrived at the house, found Paul and John inside and had put both boys in handcuffs. But after the neighbor told the cops that the two boys had arrived at the house after the shot was heard, they’d been let go.

After Paul had told the officers where he lived, he’d taken John to his house. At first, Paul’s father Jim hadn’t been too happy about Paul’s request that they would offer John a place to stayn– like Mimi hadn’t been a fan of Paul, Jim wasn’t a fan of John – but when Paul told him about what had happened, Jim had welcomed John with opens arms.

‘Listen to the cops,’ was the advice that Paul’s dad had given. They know what they’re doing. He hadn’t told John that Cynthia and George were going to be alright, as always not willing to lie even if it would be the kinder thing to do. Instead, he had said that it would be better that John didn’t do what the note asked him to. It would only result in him being killed.

Which is something that Paul agrees with his father on. Going to America would be a suicide mission. They can’t take on Hydra, John and Paul are just two Liverpool boys in their early twenties.

But apparently, John thinks differently. Or maybe he doesn’t care. He just wants to do something to save two people he cares about. Which is yet another thing that Paul can’t help but admire his friend for.

“I don’t care. They got kidnapped because of me. I have to save them.” John lets out a sigh. He looks resigned but a bit disappointed as he says, “You don’t have to come with me if you don’t want to.”

John may not like seeing the people he cares about hurt but he doesn’t like weakness either. He wouldn’t forgive Paul if he didn’t come with him to America, for both those reasons. Even if Paul hadn’t already made up his mind about trying to save his friends, the thought of John thinking less of him would have done it.

Paul’s dark brown eyebrows shoot up towards his dark brown fringe. “If _you’re_ going, then _I’m_ going. I’m not going to let you go to America on your own. What kind of friend do you think I am?”

“Are you sure?” John asks. There is relieve audible in his voice.

“Yeah, I’m sure,” Paul tells John with a nod of his head. “When do you want to leave?”

“Tomorrow. We’ll buy a boat or a plane ticket today, depending on what’s cheaper.” John proposes. He gets off of the bed and starts pacing again. “I’ll ask Brian to lend us some money.”

Brian’s family is rich. They can easily afford plane tickets to America. But whether or not he’s going to lend John and Paul the money is debatable.

“What are we going to tell Brian? He isn’t going to give us the money if he knows why we want to go.”

“I know what to tell Brian, don’t you worry. Leave that to me,” John tells Paul with a dismissive wave of his hand.


	3. And I Love Her

The road is bumpy, throwing George and Cynthia against each other every few miles. George can’t muster the energy to do anything about it. All he can do is hope that the car ride will be over soon.

An hour ago, they’d arrived at the airport. In which country, George wouldn’t know. The blindfold had been tied around his eyes when he alighted from the plane. His eyes are still covered by the stupid cloth.

The flight of what must have been more than 10  hours has left George exhausted and aching all over. Every inch of him feels like he has been run over by a lorry. He probably looks the part as well.

His arms are aching but the pain in his arm muscles are nothing compared to the sharp jabs of pain that pierce his chafed wrists. The small piece of rope is biting into his skin, making it turn red. It wouldn’t surprise him if his wrists will start bleeding when they finally take off the rope.

George knows he should still feel scared and he does, but not as scared as when the Hydra men had first taken them. Right now, he just feels too tired to worry, like the fatigue has blanketed his fear.

“We’re almost there,” one of the men sitting in the front of the car tells his two prisoners, the tone of his voice malicious. He’s one of those guys who enjoys the misery of others. He probably fits right in by Hydra.

“Are you okay?”

George turns his head, even though he can’t see Cynthia on account of his blindfold, and leans forward. George can feel heat radiate from where he assumes must be her neck. For half a second he contemplates nuzzling her neck, but then he realizes Cynthia would probably not like that at all so he doesn’t move any closer.

“No,” Cynthia croaks out.

With a trembling hand, George searches for Cynthia’s knee. When he’s found it, he touches it softly and squeezes it in what he hopes is a comforting manner. It seems to work because Cynthia’s leg stops trembling.

“It’s going to be alright. You’re going to be alright. I promise,” George whispers to her, repeating the words he’d told her on the plane.

“Don’t make promises you can’t keep,” the man in the front sneers. His accent gives away that he is a Southerner. He doesn’t sound German at all.

Or any of the other men he and Cynthia had encountered for that matter. Surely, Hydra was a German organization. Hitler wouldn’t have allowed any man with a different nationality then German in his government, especially not Yanks.

Which means that these men joined after the organization was disbanded. Why did these guys join Hydra? What could such a powerless organization promise these men to make them join ranks with the guys they fought twenty years ago?

“Don’t listen to him,” George tells Cynthia, his voice even softer than before so it’s only Cynthia who hears his words. “John or the military will save us and if they don’t, we will escape ourselves, I promise. I won’t let anything happen to you.”

“Okay.” Cynthia voice trembles but she sounds convinced. She _does_ believe he’s being sincere. Which he is. He means what he just told her. He isn’t going to let anything happen to her.

The car starts to slow down. They must have arrived. They’ve been driving in the woods for an hour and finally they have arrived at their destination.

The car turns right and stops. George hears the sound of an intercom being switched on. One of the men sitting in the front of the car – probably the driver- says something into the intercom in German. George can’t hear most of it and what he catches, he doesn’t know the translation of.

He’s probably telling whoever is at the other end of the intercom that he has the prisoners and that he wants to be let in.

Something is said into the intercom which is followed by a beep. The next sound is that of a very rusty gate opening.

The car starts to drive again.

George can feel Cynthia start shaking again beneath his hand. He squeezes her knee, hoping it will do the trick once more. This time, however, it’s not enough. Cynthia doesn’t stop shaking, the tremors become even more violent with every passing moment. Cynthia must be _really_ scared.

And George understands why. Up until now, there had still been a chance that they were going to be rescued. Maybe by a cop in a patrol car who thought two blindfolded passengers on the backseat of a car was suspect.

But now that they have arrived at a stronghold of Hydra the chance of a rescue is growing smaller and smaller. And Cyn knows this. She is a smart girl.

Either the stronghold is far away from the gate or they have a really big driveway because the car doesn’t stop again until what feels like five minutes have passed.

The man sitting next to Cyn opens the door as soon as the motor stops running. He turns around and grabs Cyn by her arm. She lets out a cry of pain.

“Hey, don’t hurt her,” George shouts. He glares at the man who is dragging Cyn from the car, even though he can’t see George’s eyes with the blindfold wrapped around his head.

“Shut up.”One of the men who had been sitting in the front of the car has opened George’s door and is now yelling at him.

A meaty hand wraps around George’s upper arm and drags him from the car as well. The grip of the man is like iron, George has to bite back a gasp as not to let on to his kidnapper that he is hurting him.

George can feel pebbles beneath his feet as he puts them on the ground. He doesn’t have the time to bask in the weirdness of the sensations of his shoes on the small rocks because almost immediately, the man is dragging him away from the car to God knows where.

A door is opened and George is pushed into a room. The air is cold and the ground beneath his feet is solid. He can hear Cynthia breathe next to her. He can tell it’s Cynthia by the rapidness of her breath.

George is pushed through another door and then another one. After a while, he loses count on how many rooms he enters and leaves after. This must be a really big house.

Then, the man that hasn’t stopped touching George since he dragged him out of the car, stops pushing him. George stops walking.

“Wait here,” the man barks at George, as if he has the choice to wonder off.

The man walks away and knocks on a door. He says something in German to whoever is behind the door. George doesn't hear the person addressed reply but he must have because the man walks back to where he left George.

A hand is laid on George’s back and the man starts pushing him again. Not wanting the man to grab him by his arm like he did before, he doesn’t struggle.

The door is opened noiselessly. The heels of George’s Cuban boots click on the floor as he enters the room. The floor must be made of parquet.  

The man pushes George further into the room before grabbing George by his arm again. He forces the younger man to stop walking. And then he is tugging at George’s blindfold.

The blindfold falls from George’s eyes. He is greeted by the sight of an old man sitting at a desk. George doesn’t pay him any attention. Instead, he turns to Cynthia, who is standing to his right and ask with a worried voice, “Are you alright?”

Cyn’s blindfold has come off as well. There are tears in her big, scared eyes and she’s shaking from head to toe.

She shakes her head as whimpers fall from her lips. She is not alright. She’s far from alright.

“Where is zhe aunt?” the man behind the desk asks, his German accent thick as he poses the question in English.

“Agent K killed her. Left her body as a warning,” the man who had been pushing George replies. “That’s what you get from putting a rookie on the job.”

“Did I imagine it or did you really just tell me I made a bad decision?” the older man wants to know, his voice dangerously cold.

“No, I’m not. I didn’t mean…” the agent stutters, his voice laced with fear.

George can no longer stand seeing Cyn so scared and upset. He crowds into her space and pulls her into his arms. He has to stand on his tiptoes in order to do so because he’s smaller than Cynthia.

“That’s what I thought,” the older man says, his voice colored with disdain.

“It’s going to be alright. It’s going to be alright,” George murmurs into Cyn’s ear for the second time that day.

“So, she is Lennon’s girlfriend?” the boss asks. He is watching George and Cynthia with narrowed eyes.

“Yes, boss,” the man replies, voice soft and complacent. His head is bowed.

“And the boy?”

“He’s a friend. He was in the house, so agent K took him as well.”

“So, you are Lennon’s friend?” the boss asks George.

George narrows his eyes in defiance, acting braver than he actually feels. “Yeah, I am. What the hell do you want?”

The boss laughs at that. It is not the over the top laugh that villains always use in the movies. It’s much darker, sinister. Like he’s hoping whatever he is planning will involve a lot of blood. It chases fear into George’s heart.

“We want Lennon to fight for us. He will be a good asset to zhe organization,” the boss explains. His hands are folded in front of him as he leans forward to smirk at George and Cynthia.

“Why the hell does Hydra need John for?” George loves his friend but it is beyond him what an organization like Hydra would want with him.

“As you are bait, it would be fair to tell you our plans with your dear friend.” The boss sits back like he’s at home and not with two people his organization has just taken prisoner. “I feel like being fair today.”

He waits for a beat before continuing, “We need his strength and his legacy. Maybe you don’t know zhis about your friend, or maybe you do, but he is zhe son of Captain America.”

Well, it is official. The boss is a lunatic. Not only his morals are screwed up, but so is his mind. John Lennon, son of Captain America. It is the most preposterous thing George has ever heard.

It is true that Captain America has been in England. He had been there to encourage the American troops stationed in the UK as well as the English troops themselves to lay down their lives for the good cause but that was four years after John was born. There is no way that John could be the son of Captain America.

But George is not going to tell the boss that. If he finds out he is barking up the wrong tree, he’ll give the order to execute George and Cynthia.

“Why now and why like this?” George wants to know. He needs to know with what kind of people he is dealing with.

“We only just found out,” the boss replies. He doesn’t appear to be someone who likes to keep his cards close to his chest. “His mother wrote Captain America a letter, it has just come into our possession. A spy in SHIELD stole it for us. As for why zhis way? Because we want Lennon to come to us at his own free will. That way, he will be here, a prisoner of ours when he comes into his power when he turns eighteen.”

The boss once again provides George with another clue that he doesn’t know what he is talking about. John turned eighteen four years ago and he is as normal George himself.

These people really are crazy.

\----

**Day 2**

John did it. He has convinced his band’s manager to buy them plane tickets to America and now they’re on their way there.

He and Paul left this morning, without Paul’s father and brother noticing. All they had with them was each one small suitcase and the money they stole from Paul’s dad. It had taken a lot of convincing before Paul had understood the necessity of taking the money with them. They would not make it to the Hydra stronghold if they didn’t and Paul’s father would understand when they would return and explain everything.

Brian had been waiting for John and Paul at the airport. By then, he had heard about what had happened to John’s aunt. It had been in the newspaper yesterday. Everybody in Liverpool knows by now what happened to John and his family.

What had not been written in the paper was the content of the note that was left behind. Brian hadn’t known the reason why they were going to America. But he had guessed that it had something to do with the kidnapping of Cynthia and George.

Brian hadn’t wanted to give John the plane tickets at first. He had shaken his head when John had commanded him to hand over the tickets. “Why are you going? Why aren’t you letting the police handle this?”

“Because I’m not going to do nothing while Cyn and George are in danger,” John had barked at Brian and had tried to snatch the plane tickets away from Brian. Brian had simply pulled them further away from John.

People had started staring. At first, John had believed that it was because he had appeared in the paper the day before but then he had realized there hadn’t been any photo of him next to the text. They were simply watching him because he was trying to grab tickets from a man who was asking him why he was going to America.

“Brian, please give us the tickets,” Paul had asked nicely. He hadn’t tried to wrestle Brian for the boarding passes. Instead, he had looked at Brian, arms crossed, eyes friendly. Brian may not have the same weakness for Paul as he does for John, but that does not mean he is immune to the McCartney charm.

Brian had repeated his question.

“Don’t you think we are old enough to make our own decisions?” Paul had asked. The friendliness in his voice had been joined by a tone of defiance. “I know we are not as old as you, but we are adults. We want to try to rescue our friends. They warned us not to get the police involved but John’s neighbor had already called them. All we can hope for now is that the police will be slow with coming into action and that we will get to Cyn and George before them.”

“And get yourself killed in the process.” Brian takes a step back and shakes his head. “I’m not going to help you with this suicide mission.”

It appears Brian has grown to care for John and his friends. Or maybe Brian just doesn’t want to be the one responsible if John winds up dead.

“Why did you buy us the tickets, then?” John wants to know. His eyes are narrowed as he watches his manager.

“I don’t know.” Brian sounds honest and the look on his face is sincere. He really doesn’t know why he is helping John.

But John has an inkling about his motivation for buying those tickets. It is the same reason why John is the one that Brian watches when he and his band are performing and why his face lights up when John walks up to him. He knows about the secret that Brian never lies about.

“Because you know I would find another way to get to America if you didn’t.” This is not the moment to tease Brian, one of John favorite hobbies. He needs the tickets. “Give me the tickets.”

With a sigh, Brian hands the plane tickets over reluctantly. “Just be careful, okay. Ask the police for help when you get there. They’ll know what to do.”

“We will,” Paul promises. He gives Brian a grateful smile. “Thank you.”

They had made it to the plane in time and now they’re in the air, waiting with knots in their stomach for the plane to land. That won’t happen for another four hours.

John has the window seat and he is looking at the clouds passing under the plane. This is his first flight as well as his first trip to America. George was the only one of their band who has been to the US. He had traveled to his older sister three months ago, who had moved there with her husband.

And now he is in the US once again, but this time under much less pleasant circumstances. And Cyn is with him.

George, who was first Paul’s friend but who John now considers a friend as well. George is even a bit like a little brother to John, with the way he admires John and follows him around everywhere. It was very annoying in the beginning, especially when John was trying to have some alone time with his Cynthia.

Cynthia, the woman John loves even if he sometimes has difficulty showing it. John blames his aunt, who is, or rather was, not big on showing affection, even when her husband and John’s uncle died. She did not take John in her arms or comforted him when his mother died either.

And now she is dead. All because some looney thinks he is the son of Captain America. Which is ludicrous. His mother wouldn’t have lied about who his real father is. What she had told him was bad enough, if she had lied to him, she would have told a happier story. She would tell him his father died in the war instead of telling him that his father had abandoned them.

“Are we going to try to rescue Cyn and George?” Paul asks, shaking John from his reverie. John turns to look at his friend.

Paul is what birds call cute. John has no difficulty with getting birds to sleep with him but unlike Paul, John needs to use his charm while Paul only needs to bat an eyelash for them to spread their legs for him.

He has big brown eyes and a pouting mouth with bright pink lips. His hair is a shade of darker brown than John’s, who has inherited his mother auburn locks. John can sort of see the appeal.

“Yeah. But I’m not going to use violence if that is what you’re thinking. As we have no idea how heavily armed these nut jobs are, I’m going to use me head.” John presses a finger to his head to emphasize his point. “I’m going to pretend I came to turn myself in. I will fake cooperating and then when they’re asleep, I’m going to break everybody out.”

Paul furrows his eyebrows. “What if they kill Cyn and George as soon as you surrender? They don’t need them as leverage anymore when they have you.”

John has thought of this. “They’ll be _my_ leverage. As long as they don’t harm them, I will do whatever they want me to do. I think it’s an offer they can’t refuse.”

There’s fear in Paul’s eyes. They are probably a mirror of John’s. He too is scared. He has never been more scared in his life. Not only do their own lives depend on John’s plan succeeding but also the lives of two people both of them care about.

Before he met Cynthia, John had never thought he would love a woman. Sure, he wanted to fuck birds but being in love with them? It had seemed as something impossible. But then Cynthia Powell had come to his attention. She was one of those birds that always sat in front of the class. At first, John had chalked it up to Cynthia being a teacher’s pet. But then he had discovered that her eyesight was as bad as his and that her reasons for not wearing glasses were the same as his. It had been the moment he fell in love with her.

“If they think I’m Captain America’s son, they’re probably really stupid. They’ll fall for it.” John forces his voice to sound self-assured, in the hope it will convince Paul of the soundness of his plan.

“I hope you’re right.”

Yeah, John hopes so too.


	4. Little Child

**Day 3**

The hotel isn’t difficult to find. Paul and John had bought a map of Nashville at the airport while they were waiting for their flight and had studied it carefully while they were traveling. They had wanted to arrive at the hotel as soon as possible. Time was of the essence.

A lone man is attending the desk. He looks haggard, which is understandable, seeing as it is five o’clock in the morning. His hair is greasy, his face rough with stubble and there are bags under his eyes. He keeps yawning every few seconds.

Paul walks up to the desk and smiles at the man. “We would like a room for two, please.”

The man pushes up from where he was leaning on the desk and walks to a big book, which must be the hotel ledger.

“Name,” he mutters in a gruff voice. He sounds irritated like he wants to be anywhere but here.

“McCartney and Lennon. We didn’t make any reservations.”

The man lets out an irritated sound and lets the book fall closed. There is a bored expression on his face when he lifts his head to look at Paul. “You could have said so in the first place, you know.”

Paul can feel anger flare up inside his chest. The man may be tired, but that is no reason to be rude. What was the hotel thinking when they hired this man? They must not care for costumer’s satisfaction.

John, who has joined Paul at the desk, is getting irritated too. Paul doesn’t have to see his face to know this. He is even more anxious to get to their hotel room and get information from Hydra then Paul is. This man is wasting their time and time is not something that they can spare.

“Well, we told you now,” John barks at the man, who looks startled by John’s aggression. Paul understands why. John can be very intimidating, even with his small height. It’s the eyes, Paul reckons.

“Yeah … uhm… yeah, I have a room for two. How many nights are you going to stay.” The man hurries to where the keys are dangling from hooks that are attached to the walls.

“Just the one night.”

Paul isn’t sure if Hydra is going to pick them up or if they need to get to the stronghold by themselves, but they’re not going to tell them to stay in the hotel room for more than one night, Paul is sure of that.

The man hands him over the keys and gives both him and John instructions on how to get to their room. Paul thanks him, even though he doesn’t really deserve any but Paul has been raised to always be polite.

When John and Paul walk up the stairs and down the corridors, they try their best to be as quiet as possible. They manage to do so up until Paul trips over a solitary shoe. He lands on his knees, the impact making him groan as pain shoots up his legs.

“Careful,” John hisses. He looks angry like Paul tripped over the shoe on purpose.

“I am. Some nut left a shoe outside their door. I didn’t see it because of the dark,” Paul hisses back at John while he glares at him. “Wasn’t my fault.”

“Sorry,” John apologizes, whispering.

Paul gets back to his feet and he and John start walking again. Luckily, it doesn’t take them too long to find their room. Paul opens the door and he and John go inside.

After John has switched on the light, Paul is able to see the room. There are a bed, a bathroom, and a closet. The room itself isn’t too big but it is far from the smallest rooms Paul has ever slept in. Some of the hotel rooms that he and the lads stayed in during their Scotland tour had been far smaller.

It feels weird thinking about the tour right now. It is as if that was part of another reality. They had strayed into a different one the moment they found John’s aunt murdered. They’re no longer ordinary boys who want to become rock stars but instead one of them is the son of a superhero and the other is his best friend. Is Paul going to become a sidekick in this reality?

It would have been great if this was indeed an alternative reality, one they could escape from if they wanted to. But instead, this is reality. Paul and John are actually in America on what is most likely a suicide mission to rescue people they love.

John has started searching the room, trying to find the clue that Hydra wants them to find. Paul knows, though, that John isn’t going to find anything.

“John, stop,” Paul tells John. John, of course, doesn’t listen to him. Instead, he lays down on his belly and looks under the bed.

“John stop,” Paul hisses again.”You’re not going to find anything. Hydra didn’t leave a note or some other clue.”

“Yeah, how did you figure that one?” John asks. He has lifted the edge of the cover that’s draped on the bed so he can peer under it. Not that he can see anything with his nearsighted eyes.

“They wouldn’t have known which room we were going to stay in, so they wouldn’t have known which room they needed to leave the clue in.”

John groans and lets go of the cover. He lays his head in his hand and his shoulders sag in defeat. “We’re going to have to wait, _again_?”

“I’m afraid so,” Paul replies. He sits down on the bed with a sigh.

Paul understands John’s frustration. Once again, they can’t do anything that brings them closer to rescuing Cyn and George. Their fate is once again in the hands of the people who kidnapped them. It makes Paul feel hopeless himself. Like John, he doesn’t want to wait for the next step they need to take to become known to them.

But that is all they can do, so they decide to freshen up in the bathroom. When Paul and John have washed their faces and changed their dress shirts, they grab a chair and sit down on the balcony.

The hotel is right next to a highway. The cars are loud as they drive past. Paul had hoped that by sitting on the balcony, he could relax a bit. Well, that’s not going to happen with so much noise assaulting his ears.

John is staring out into the distance. There’s a pained expression on his face. He’s probably imagining all the horrible things Hydra is putting Cynthia and George through. He’s probably beating himself up about it. He’s blaming himself for what has happened, Paul is sure of it. John may act tough, but he’s a softy under all that hard exterior. A fact only a handful of people is privy to. John doesn’t like people to know the real him.

Sensing Paul is looking at him, John turns his head to look at his friend. His eyes are intense as they catch Paul’s. Paul doesn’t blink as he looks back at him.

“I know you probably don’t want to hear this, but you shouldn’t blame yourself for what happened,” Paul tells John.

“Who says I’m blaming myself? I’m not responsible for what other people do,” John bites back. He takes on a defensive stance by crossing his arms.

“No, you’re not. But that still doesn’t mean you don’t blame yourself for what has happened.” Paul lets out a careful sigh. His gaze doesn’t waver as he says, “I know you. You do blame yourself.”

Paul had blamed himself for his mother’s death as well, even though there hadn’t been any reason for him to do so. She had been so good at hiding the symptoms of her illness, Paul couldn’t have noticed something was wrong with his mother earlier than he had done.

Suddenly, there’s a knock on the door.

John jumps up from his chair and races into the hotel room and towards the door. Paul follows him with quick steps.

When John opens the door, he scans the corridor, in the hope the person who has knocked on the door is still within eyesight.

Paul kneels in the doorway and picks up the envelope that’s laying in front of the door. It is white and has two words written on it.

**For John**

**—**

The ground is cold beneath Cynthia’s bare legs. She has her arms crossed, hoping it will preserve her body heat but it isn’t really helping. She’s still very cold. She hasn’t stopped shivering for what must be an hour.

Cynthia can feel George’s worried eyes on her. She looks at him and gives him a weak smile. It’s touching that George cares that she is cold. He has been really sweet to her throughout this whole ordeal.

She has always seen George as a little brother. Someone who followed her and her boyfriend what had felt like everywhere, who liked her cooking, someone who still had to figure out how to be a man.

But yesterday, he had looked after her. He had tried to calm her down, comforted her whenever she got scared. He had acted like a man. Maybe if they somehow make their way out of this mess, she will no longer see him as a little brother but as a friend.

“Are you alright?” George asks. A smile isn’t enough to assure him, he needs Cynthia to actually say she’s okay.

Not that there is something he can do if she’s not. He’s chained to the wall opposite the one Cynthia is shackled to. He could never make his way to her, even if he wanted to.

Their kidnappers had thrown them in a cell yesterday, after the boss was done talking to them, and had chained them to the wall. This morning, one of them had dumped bread and water next to George and Cynthia, so they wouldn’t starve and become obsolete, and had told them if they needed to use the bathroom, they needed to yell and either he or one of his colleagues would take them.

That was a while ago. Nothing else has happened since then. Cynthia has spent the time worrying and George has spent it watching her.

Is this how things are going to be until the Hydra boss will inevitably kill them because John doesn’t show up? Waiting with only sleep and food as interruptions? Things could be worse, though. Thankfully, Cynthia has George to talk to.

George, who actually believes John would risk his life to save him and Cynthia. Does he hope that Cynthia is actually right and John won’t put himself in harm’s way? Does he wonder if his life is worth the sacrifice of John’s, the way Cynthia does?

Because she feels guilty that she is hoping George is right. There’s a part of her that hopes that John does deem her and George’s life worth risking his own life for.

“I’m alright. I’m a bit cold,” Cynthia answers the question George had asked before she had gotten lost in her own thoughts.

“I wish I could help you,” George tells Cynthia. He looks at the chains that are lying on the ground beside him. When he’s done inspecting them, he lifts his head and looks at Cynthia with regretful eyes. “ My chains are too short. I can’t reach you. Maybe if you call one of the guards, he will give you something to keep you warm.”

If Cynthia’s personal circumstances had been any different, she would have doubted that their jailors would give her a blanket to keep her warm. But as it is, George’s suggestion might just work.

“Guard, can I have a blanket?” Cynthia calls out.

The guard turns around and glares at Cynthia. “Does this look like a hotel? You’re prisoner, you’re getting no blanket.”

The animosity in the guard’s voice scares Cynthia, even if it’s not unexpected. She can feel herself starting to tremble in fear again and she almost gives up. 

“But I’m cold. I won’t be any good to your boss dead.”

The guard looks skeptical. “You’re hardly freezing to death.”

Is he really letting Cynthia freeze until she almost dies of hypothermia? Is he really that cruel?

Of course, he is. He is holding her captive so he can betray his own country. He would probably not blink an eye if his boss asked him to kill her.

“I’m pregnant,” Cynthia blurts out. She’s really desperate, her teeth are starting to hurt with how they’re chatter together.

“And you’re telling me why?”The guard lifts one of his eyebrows. He’s not impressed.

“I’m much more valuable to your boss if the baby doesn’t die. John will be even more motivated to save me if I’m carrying his child. If you don’t give me a blanket, I may not be for much longer.”

Cynthia doesn’t know if a miscarriage can actually happen so easily, but the guard most likely doesn’t know either.

The guard grumbles something that Cynthia doesn’t catch. He turns around and walks away, much to the astonishment of Cynthia.

“Hey, where are you going?” Cynthia calls out. The guard doesn’t reply, of course.

Cynthia slumps against the wall and closes her eyes. Despair and coldness are making her body tremble.

“Are you really pregnant?” George’s voice is careful like he’s afraid of the answer.

Cynthia opens her eyes and gives George a wry smile. “Yeah, I’m pregnant. That’s why I came by John’s house. To tell him.”

“Is it…” George swallows. There’s a blush on his cheeks and his forehead is creased.  “Is it John’s.”

“Of course it’s John’s,” Cynthia replies, her voice sharp with outrage. “I never cheated on John. I’m not that kind of girl.”

Cynthia loves John. He had wormed his way into her heart by showing her the soft side of him that he hid beneath his rough exterior. After that, there hadn’t been any other guy for her.

Even if she wanted to sleep with another guy, she would never. John can be very possessive. She would be signing the guy’s death warrant. She couldn’t have done that to a guy she would deem special enough to cheat on John with.

“No of course not, sorry,” George mutters. His face is a bright red with the shameful foolishness of his question. “When did you find out?’

“The night before. My mother already knows.”

Cynthia’s mother had been really angry when she heard the news. Not at Cynthia, though, but at John. She had seen it as another reason for her to hate John. He had put her darling daughter in this awful situation. Cynthia had protested that she was to blame just as much as John was, but her mother hadn’t had wanted to hear any of it.

“He’s the man,” she had fumed. “It’s his responsibility that you don’t become pregnant.”

“I assume she wasn’t too happy?” George asks. There a sympathetic look in his eyes.

“No,” Cynthia snickers without humor. “But she’s letting me decide whether or not I’m going to keep the child.”

“And are you… going to keep it?”

Cynthia lets a sigh escape from between her lips. “Yeah, I am. I don’t think I will be able to bear parting with my child when it’s born. I want to raise it, with or without John’s help.”

Suddenly, there’s the sound of the jail door opening. Cynthia’s eyes shoot to the guard, who has returned without her and George noticing. He looks irritated as he dumps the yellow blanket on Cynthia’s lap. “Here’s your blanket.”

Cynthia grabs the blanket and drapes it over her chest. She stops shaking right away. The wool feels like a warm embrace. 

The jail door falls closed with a thud and the guard turns the key, locking George and Cynthia in their cell once again.


	5. Tomorrow Never Knows

**Day 4**

 

John and Paul have traveled for six hours when they arrive at the hotel. All six of those hours were spent in fear. An agent of SHIELD had been following them and they had been instructed in the letter that had been dumped on their doorstep the day before, to lose their tail. SHIELD must not find out where HYDRA is hiding.

John doesn’t know whether they’ve been successful or not. Probably not, as he hadn’t noticed anybody following him and Paul. There’s no way for him to know if their evasive maneuvers have worked.

“You think we lost our tail?” John asks Paul as he watches the younger man fiddle with the lock of the hotel room. It appears the key refuses to cooperate.

“I don’t know. I didn’t even notice anyone following us,” Paul confesses. He lets out a soft exclamation of joy when the lock finally gives. He opens the door and steps inside. John follows.

So, it wasn’t because of John short-sightedness that he didn’t notice anybody following them.

Though not aware of someone following them, John and Paul had jumped off of a train, just in case. A SHIELD agent had to be following them, why else would HYDRA warn John and Paul about them?

When John had read the word SHIELD, his heart had dropped. He’d been so sure that what would follow after that word would be the promise to kill both Cynthia and George. For some reason, SHIELD had found out what happened and HYDRA blamed John for it.

John’s fears had not become reality, however. HYDRA did not blame him. They had a spy in the organization and he had been caught. That was how SHIELD had found out what had happened. A whole bunch of SHIELD agents, stationed around the US, are now looking for him.

 _Why_ are agents of SHIELD looking for him? He’s not a person of importance, no matter what those morons in HYDRA think? Why would they care about his safety? They probably don’t. They probably only care about where he can lead them: HYDRA’s hiding place.

It can’t be in this town. It’s quaint but somewhere that tourists like to visit. This can hardly be the place where a secret organization like HYDRA hides. No, their headquarters is probably somewhere in the middle of nowhere.

Paul sits down next to John on the bed. John can tell that he’s struggling with something. He’s probably thinking about how his dad is probably worried about him.

“Go call him,” John tells Paul. “I saw a telephone in the lobby.”

“I can’t call him.” Paul bites down on his lower lip as he stares at the wall in front of him. There’s a crease of worry in his forehead.

“And why not?” John asks, curtly. He can feel anger simmer in the pit of his stomach. Why the hell is Paul refusing to call his dad? He at least has someone he _can_ call. There’s no one left back home for John.

“Because what if he travels after me? Or he alerts the authorities? SHIELD catching on wasn’t our fault, but what if my dad contacts the American police, that _will_ be our fault.” Paul doesn’t raise his voice. He talks like a man who knows he has no say in his own destiny.

John is surprised at the defeated tone in Paul’s voice. John is supposed to be the panicking, losing his head with worry. Paul is the one with a level head. He is the one who is supposed to lift moral on this very dangerous mission. John is supposed to be the one who thinks everything is lost, not Paul.

It’s probably because of his difficult childhood, that John has always seen the darker side of things. He had lost his mother not once, but twice; his father had abandoned him, and his uncle – who had been like a surrogate father to him – had died when he was sixteen.

Sure, Paul had lost his mother as well, but he had known her, had been raised by her. And his father is still alive and he has a younger brother who looks up to him. No, John had had a tougher upbringing than Paul and that’s why John is usually the pessimist while Paul tends to see the bright side of life, though during all this it has been John who had to tell Paul that they were going to save George and Cyn.

Keeping his cool had been Paul’s contribution but now he’s the one who looks like he’s about to fall to pieces.

Why is that?

“You’re probably right. I didn’t think of that,” John admits.

Paul is probably acting this way because he hates that he can’t let his father know he’s alright. He can’t tell him where he is and that he doesn’t have to worry about him.

If Paul had been a girl, John would’ve pulled him into an embrace. If Paul had been Cyn, John would have gathered him into his arms and tell him he can tell his father he is alright when they get back. And they will get back, John is sure of that. He may not be Captain America’s son like HYDRA thinks he is, but he does know that his plan will work. Before they know it, the four of them will be back in Liverpool.

Paul leans backward and then lays down on the bed. John joins him. His heart thuds against his ribcage at the intimacy that comes with their proximity.

John has this problem with some boys, from time to time. His body would react to them the same way it reacts to almost every girl. When it first happened with a boy, John had been scared. He was a boy of fifteen who had been taught that men weren’t supposed to be attracted to other men. He had been afraid that he was a pof. But then he’d fallen in love with his first girlfriend at sixteen and everything was right again.

Things started to get weird again when he was seventeen and he had met Paul. By then he had broken up with his first girlfriend and was going steady with Cyn. John had been sure that the attraction to the boy when he was fifteen was just a fluke, just his hormones going haywire. But then he had laid eyes on Paul and he hadn’t been able to deny to himself that Paul was attractive. And not in the ‘I need to keep my girlfriend away from him’ type of way.

When he and the band had gone to Hamburg, he had allowed himself to experiment. He had been too afraid to do so back home. Back at the Pool, there was a higher chance of getting caught by the police and because of that of his friends and family finding out. Hamburg was a den of depravity, every boy in the band had done something there that they wouldn’t want their families to know about.

The experiences in Hamburg had made John realize that yeah, maybe he was a bit of a pof, but he likes girls as well. When he had asked one of the boys he slept with in Hamburg what that made him, he had told John it made him either bi or a horny bastard.

“Would you have been happy if your mum had told you Captain America was your dad?” Paul’s voice is careful when he asks.

John lets out a sigh. A groan escapes him as he moves his body to face Paul. Every inch of him aches. The jump off of the train has taken its toll on his body. Hopefully, they don’t have to do that every day until they’ve reached the HYDRA headquarters. He doesn’t think his body will be able to endure it.

“I would still have been a boy who was abandoned by his father.”

“Not if you were born when he died in the plane crash.” Paul turns his body to face John and their faces are now suddenly pretty close. “Maybe your mum didn’t even realize that she was pregnant when Captain America sacrificed himself.”

“When was that then?” John asks, the tone of his voice skeptical.

“In 1944 I believe.” Paul’s face clouds over when he realizes what that means. John had already been four when Captain America’s plane had crashed into the ocean. If the superhero was John’s dad, it would mean either Julia hadn’t told him that he had a son or that the Captain had abandoned John.

No, even if Captain America was John’s dad, he would still have a deadbeat dad and a mother who didn’t really care for what was best for him.

“I wouldn’t want Captain America as my dad,” John admits to Paul. He forces himself to grin at his friend. “He is this guy who is the hero of so many people and who would put Jesus to shame with how good he is. People would expect the same of me. And I’m not like that. Not at all.”

—–

“Get up,” one of the guards barks at Cynthia as he opens the door to her and George’s cell. “The boss wants to see ya.”

Cynthia is still croaky from sleep. She had traveled to dreamland shortly after the sun had disappeared behind the horizon. With the blanket keeping her warm and because she hadn’t slept at all the night before – on the plane she had been too scared to sleep a wink – falling asleep hadn’t been difficult.

“Don’t you dare hurt her,” George hisses. The voice of the guard has awoken him as well. He’s glaring at the more imposing man as he kneels down to free Cynthia’s hand.

“Not going to hurt her. Just taking her to the doctor and then to the boss,” the guards says in a gruff voice.

He drags Cynthia up, who lets out a cry of pain. The muscles in her legs have grown stiff in the night even with the blanket keeping them warm.

“You bloody…” George cries out.

“That was by accident,” the guard barks as he turns around to glare at George. “Now shut the fuck up before I shut your mouth for you.”

“George, it’s okay. I’m going to be alright,” Cynthia promises George. She looks past the burly form of the guard and smiles at him. “They’re not going to hurt me. I’m carrying John’s child.”

“We will know that for sure in an hour, won’t we?” He’s grinning nastily at Cynthia. He presses his face closer. Cynthia can feel his odorous breath puff against her cheeks and nose. It smells of garlic and onions. “And if we find out you lied, you’re going to regret it so bad.”

So, that’s why they’re taking her to a doctor, to see if she is really pregnant. They want to make sure she is actually carrying what they think is Captain America’s grandchild.

“If you lay a hand on her I will kill every one of you. And so will John.”

The guard scoffs, doesn’t even spare George a glance as he drags Cynthia across the cell. He doesn’t consider George as a threat. He’s tied up and even if he somehow manages to free himself, he’s still outnumbered. George’s threats are idle.

“George, I’m going to be alright,” Cynthia shouts as the guard drags her out of the cell and down the corridor. There are other cells but all of them are empty. “I am pregnant. They’re not going to hurt me.”

The doctor is already in the building. Apparently, the HYDRA stronghold has an infirmary. The doctor is a man who is around forty years old, the hair around his temples have already gone gray. To Cynthia’s surprise, he looks friendly as he welcomes her to his domain.

“Hop on here,” the doctor – who had introduced himself as Hendricks – tells Cynthia as he taps the bed he’s standing in front of. “I’m going to feel your belly. How many months are you along?”

“Three months.” Cynthia’s flows have never been regular, that’s why it had taken her so long to discover she was pregnant. There hadn’t been any morning sickness to set off her alarm bells.

The doctor’s hands are cold as he starts to examine her belly. She has the fight to urge to jump off of the bed and away from the doctor’s hands. Thankfully, it doesn’t take him long to finish.

“Lucky you. You _are_ pregnant,” Dr. Hendricks congratulates Cynthia as he smiles at her. “The boss is going to spoil you. You’re carrying HYDRA’s future.”

Fear grabs a hold of Cynthia’s heart. She looks at the doctor with big fearful eyes as she stutters, “But… but John… wasn’t he supposed to be…”

“Both John and his child will secure HYDRA’S triumph. I’m sure the boss will explain everything in a few minutes.”

Suddenly, the doctor’s smile doesn’t seem so friendly anymore. Maybe it never was, maybe she only thought so because he was the only person in this godforsaken place who had tried to make her feel at ease.

The guard, who had been waiting at the door while the doctor examined her, is suddenly standing next to the bed. He gestures for Cynthia to get to her feet.

With the doctor’s help – her leg muscles are still stiff – she gets off of the bed. She lets the guard lead her out of the room.

The boss is waiting in a very spacious room. He’s sitting at a table and he’s eating breakfast. Apparently, Germans eat cheese omelets to start their day.

He looks up when Cynthia and the guard walk into the room. A second later, a smile appears on his lips. It looks creepy.

“So, you are pregnant. Good for you and good for us.” He gestures towards the chair opposite the one he’s sitting on himself. “Sit down here, please.”

With trembling legs, Cynthia walks towards the chair and sits down.

“From now on, you eat with me. The doctor will check your baby every two days. You are no longer sleeping in ze cell. You will spend ze nights in a chamber but a guard will be in front of it, of course. We need you and the baby healzy.”

“What about George?” Cynthia asks carefully. Her palms are wet and her heart is beating rapidly but she has to ask. She can’t in all good consciousness sleep in a bedroom when George is spending his nights in a cell.

“Is he with child too?” The leader grins at his own joke. It makes him look even scarier. “Is his John’s as well?”

“No.” Cynthia shakes her head, even though she knows the HYDRA leader knows that men can’t be with child, and she lowers her gaze. Her eyes glue themselves on the wooden surface of the table.

“Then he stays in ze cell. I don’t know why we keeping him, actually. We don’t really need him. You seem easy to keep in line.”

Cynthia’s head shoots up. She knows what the leader is implying. She narrows her eyes at him. “That stops the moment you kill George.”

“Even if it means we will make your death very painful? We _will_ kill you when you have delivered ze baby.” All the humor has drained from both the leader’s voice as well as his grin. Now it looks menacing.

Fear grabs a hold of Cynthia’s heart. She bites her lip and forces her eyes to stay narrowed. The leader can’t find out she’s scared. “I wouldn’t do that if I were you. If you want John to cooperate, that is. Do you think he wants to work for the people who have killed his girlfriend?”

Cynthia’s thread feels hollow to her. Even if John ends up coming to the stronghold, she knows that John doesn’t love her enough for him to start lashing out if she’s killed. Even though he does love her, she isn’t the love of his life.

The leader barks out a laugh, making Cynthia almost jump into the air in shock. “You have a spine, have you?”

“Yes, I do.” Cynthia holds her head defiantly but inside she’s still shaking. Dealing with these kinds of people is like walking into a minefield. Get to confident and things may explode in your face. “I have some questions and I’m going to ask them. Because I have a spine.”

“So, you have questions? You may ask zem, but it doesn’t mean we are going to answer zem.”

Even though she can’t indeed be sure that the leader is going to answer her questions, she’s still going to ask them. Cynthia knows she has an opportunity here and she’s going to use it.

“What do you want from John? I get you want to use him to ensure the future of HYDRA but what do you specifically want him to do?”

“He’s going to kill the superheroes for us.”

John killing people. At the one hand, Cynthia can see him do it – he does have an aggressive streak, she has been on the receiving end of his fists three times herself – but on the other hand, she can’t see him end people’s lives in cold blood. Even if he can be rough at times, underneath all that aggression, he is a gentle soul. Killing someone would destroy him.

The leader snickers at the appalled look on Cynthia’s face. “You won’t recognize your precious boyfriend when we’re done with him.”

“And what do you want with my child? Is he going to kill superheroes too?” Cynthia can’t keep the disdain from her voice. “Are you going to make my baby a filthy murderer?”

“No, your child won’t be a killer. He will be the face of the new world order. He’s going to be just like his granddad.”

Cynthia’s child, her precious child is going to be the face of evil.

There are three ways this will end and all of them are awful. Either John doesn’t come to rescue her and George and they will be killed, or John will come and HYDRA find out that John isn’t the son of Captain America and all three of them will be killed, or by some miracle, John is Captain America’s son and he will be forced to kill superheroes while his son is groomed to be the new Hitler.


	6. P.S. I Love You

The agent has lost them. Between Nashville and Chicago, they’d disappeared from the train. Agent Stewards had contacted headquarters the moment the train had arrived at the station and neither Lennon or his friend had alighted. Valenzi had ordered him to come back, right away.

Adrian Valenzi, only a member of the board since two weeks ago, has to be the bearer of bad news. He’s going to have to tell his colleagues that one of their most important targets has given their agent the slip. And it is his fault.

The others, Mr. Stark and Miss Carter had insisted that their best agents should follow John Lennon. It is one of the most important missions that SHIELD has ever embarked on. No screw-up’s were permissible. _He_ would lead them to what was left of HYDRA. Not to mention that they had promised his mother to keep him safe. But Valenzi had insisted that a new agent, whose face was unknown to HYDRA, should be send on this important mission. After a heavy debate both his colleagues had given in but had told him that any failure would be on his head. And now he has failed. Has all but broken his promise to the beautiful Julia.

Valenzi had just started to work for SHIELD when Julia was brought into the fold of the organization. It was 1946 and SHIELD had still been in its infant days. She had walked in, all flustered cheeks and wild auburn hair, and she had a child in her arms. It was a two-year-old boy with wide brown eyes.

SHIELD had contacted her after it had acquired a letter addressed to Steve Rogers when they had raided an HYDRA hideout. In this letter, Julia had written that she was pregnant with Steve Roger’s child after a night of indulgences. She had wanted nothing from him other than for him to know he had a child.

To make sure that the child she had taken with her to the SHIELD headquarters was really the Captain’s child, a DNA test was done. Howard Stark still had some of his friend’s DNA and had tested it against that of the boy’s. The results were conclusive. John, as she had called the boy, was Captain America’s son.

Other tests were conducted and the results were surprising. The serum that had made the Captain so strong, had altered his DNA so that his son had inherited his powers. Or rather _would_ inherit them. At two years of age, the serum was still dormant. Hormones would eventually trigger the serum to become effective. John would not have his father’s strength until around the date that he would turn eighteen. Up until that day, he could live in an house that was under SHIELD protection.

Though Julia had known that her son was the son of the Captain, having it confirmed had still shocked her so that she had fainted into Vakenzi’s arms. After she had come to, she had told him and Howard that she wanted her son to have a normal life. She didn’t want him to have the life of a prisoner or him to end up like his father.

Howard had tried to convince her that her son should know about his heritage. HYDRA knows who he is and so should he. Having Steve Roger’s as a father is something to be proud of.

Valenzi had argued with his boss, had reminded that John was still a little boy and if HYDRA knew who he is, wasn’t it better that they would help hide him instead of locking him up in a fortified house that would surely catch their enemy’s attention.

Julia had send him a thankful look and he had blushed at her approval.

In the end, all three bosses, Peggy, Howard and Chester Phillips had agreed that they would help Julia lie about her son. They had falsified her birth certificate, changed the date of birth from 1945 into 1940 – the year of birth of the son that she had lost when he was only four months old and whose life John was going to lead – and had added Freddie Lennon – the father of her first child – as the father of John.

All the files concerning the research done on John was destroyed and it was agreed that all the information about John was on a need to know basis from then on out.

Howard had wanted an agent to watch John every hour of the day, to make sure that he was safe but Julia had refused. If an HYDRA agent ever found out that a SHIELD agent was shadowing her son, it would alert him that something was special about her son.

Howard had conceded and Julia had left. Thirteen years later, Valenzi had found out that Julia had died. She had been hit by a car that had been driven by a drunk off-duty policeman. Though Valenzi had only known Julia for a day, his heart broke when he heard the news.

By then, John was only thirteen years old, though officially, he was eighteen. According to Howard, he probably looked the part. As the serum exhilarated cell growth, John’s body would mature more rapidly. It was the reason why Howard had agreed to push the date of birth five years back. Without the serum in John’s body, they would have never pulled it off.

Even after Julia died, SHIELD respected her wish that no agents should shadow her son. That is why there was no agent to stop the HYDRA agent from taking his friend and his girlfriend and killing the aunt that he lived with. It was only because of an SHIELD agent that had infiltrated the Liverpool police corps that they had found out what happened.

As soon as Valenzi had gone off the phone with the agent, he had mobilized all agents to watch the airports around the whole country. He hadn’t told them why they needed to look out for a boy around twenty-years old with auburn hair and a pronounced nose.

He had been spotted at Nashville National airport and Valenzi had send a rookie agent to tail John – who had apparently taken a friend with him.

That rookie had lost them and now Valenzi has to tell his colleagues that he has failed. He has already called them to the conference room, all Valenzi has to do now is walk to that room.

It takes him a few seconds to gather the courage to get off of his chair and walk out of his office. He tries his best not to let it show how miserable he feels as he makes his way through rooms and corridors filled with employees and agents but he’s not so sure that he’s all that successful.

When he has made his way to the doors of the conference room, Valenzi stops and takes a deep breath. Sweat has plastered his mousy brown hair against his pale forehead. He can feel his glasses slip from his nose. With trembling hands, he pushes it back up.

He needs to get a grip, Julia’s son’s life is at stake. If he gets fired, so be it, he deserves it. All that matters is that Julia’s son doesn’t fall into the clutches of HYDRA.

Taking another deep breath, Valenzi pushes the door open and walks into the conference room.

Three pairs of eyes are on him as he hurries towards his seat at the round table. He sits down and looks Howard Stark straight in the eyes. “We’ve got a problem.”

Howard, though eighteen years older than when Julia had stumbled into SHIELD headquarters , hasn’t changed much. His black hair has yet to turn grey and there are no new lines on his face. His body is just has lean as it had been when he was in his twenties.

Peggy’s hair has gone grey, at least some of it and there are lines in the corners of her mouth and eyes. But she is as beautiful and imposing as she back when Valenzi had first met her.

Chester Phillips has aged the most, by far. He had already been quite old back when he had founded SHIELD together with the people sitting next to him. The lines in his face have become even more pronounced and his hair has become white. Due to his age, it being 87, he is no longer an active member of the organization but he’s still involved with some projects. This includes the protection of the son of Captain America.

Next to the people sitting next to him, Valenzi doesn’t look like someone who should lead an organization like SHIELD, with his short stature, glasses and his thin brown hair. But for some reason, Chester thought him a good choice to take over his task of assigning the right agents to go on missions.

And now he’s going to know that his trust was misplaced.

“What’s wrong?” Howard asks. He looks worried. All three of them do.

“The agent lost John and his friend.”

\----

**Day 5**

The next day, John and Paul travel with yet another train. Luckily for the both of them, they don’t have to jump from the train this time.

They had gotten on this morning at eleven. According to the note left on their doorstep, they need to travel to Memphis today, which is strange as they need to travel back the way they came to get there.

John looks troubled as he tells Paul so. His eyebrows are scrunched up and he’s blinking more than usual.

“Maybe they’re afraid that we weren’t successful at shaking that bloke that was following us. Maybe they hope that if we seem to travel randomly, the bloke will give up.”

“But why was that bloke following us? Is he an agent of SHIELD or does some other secret organization think I’m the son of Captain America too?”

“I don’t know,” Paul admits with a sigh.

“I don’t understand why they think I’m this person. Why has everybody suddenly gone mad?” John almost shouts the last part. He’s getting frustrated that he has all these questions and no answers.

“We’ll ask them, yeah? When we get there,” Paul proses because he can’t come up with any other way in which they can find out the truth. They need to get it from the horse’s mouth. Or rather, the monster’s mouth.

“Well, that’s going to be one interesting conversation,” John scoffs. “You wouldn’t by any change have a legitimate reason to kidnap my girl and friend or have you just lost your mind.”

“I wouldn’t ask it like that…” Paul protests only half-heartily. He knows John is not being serious. “I think they’re going to want to brag how clever they were for figuring it out. And they’re going to want to convince you that you really are the son of Captain America.”

“Yeah, how did you figure that one out?” John asks, one eyebrow raised. Though he still looks angry, he seemed to have calmed down a bit.

“They want you to work for them. That’s why they are using Cyn and George as bait. If they wanted to kill you, they would have waited for you to come home and do it there. But they didn’t, which means they want you alive.”

It’s clear that John hadn’t thought about what HYDRA wanted from him. His mind had been to preoccupied with figuring out how to jailbreak Cyn and George and why the hell a bunch of Nazi’s think he has a different father then the one named on his birth certificate. He hadn’t had the time to think about the why.

“So, what do you think they want from me?” John asks. Paul can hear the curiousness his voice that is riddled with sarcasm.

“I don’t know,” Paul admits. He lets out a sigh and strokes his chin. He can feel stubble bristle under his finger. He had decided not to shave this morning. The night before, he and John had stayed up late and when they woke up the next morning, they had a train to catch in an hour’s time. All they had time for was a quick breakfast. “Whatever they want, it can’t be something good.”

Paul doesn’t know a lot about HYDRA, other than that they fought on the Nazi’s side. It was all before his time. He was only three years old when the war ended. He hadn’t been very interested in the stories about Captain America either. That was George.

Fuck.

George’s knowledge about the Captain, about HYDRA can maybe keep him and Cynthia save. If he knows the organization, how it functions, what their goals are, he’ll know how to play along with them.

And Cynthia. Poor Cynthia. Paul just hopes they won’t hurt her. She’s fragile, and she means so much to John, though he’d never admit it, at least to any of his friends. But Paul knows. He sees it in the way he looks at her. It never fails to make Paul feel envious of what they have. He has never had it, not even with Dot. That is one of the reasons why he broke up with her when it turned out that their nightmare was only an pregnancy scare. He had realized that he was relieved that he didn’t have to marry her, which in turn made him conclude that there was no future for them, that he didn’t love her as much as he should have. So, he ended their relationship.

With John and Cyntia, it’s different. It wouldn’t surprise Paul if they ended up marrying.

“You think they want me to work for them? Become their mascot, like Captain America was for the allied forces?” John wants to know. His eyes wander to where he has his hands folded on his lap. “You’d think they want to turn me into a Nazi.” John spits out the last part.

The people sitting on the chairs in front of Paul and John’s turn around to glare at them., John glares right back.

“What!” he barks. His narrows his eyes and a sneer forms on his lips.”You don’t like me saying Nazi’s? I’ll say whatever the hell I want.” His Scouse accent his become thicker, the way it always does whenever he’s angry, despite his aunt’s best efforts.

Thinking about John’s aunt, even if it’s only for a second, makes his heart hurt. Paul hasn’t always liked her but she meant a lot to John and because of that, it hurts Paul to remember that she’s dead. That she was murdered by the people they have come to America to meet.

“Oh, you can use the word Nazi’s,” the man sitting in the seat in front of John scoffs. There’s a look of pure hatred in his eyes. “But you can’t go around befriending Nazi’s. Anyone who does is a piece of shit in my opinion.”

“Believe me, I’m not planning on befriending any Nazi’s. I’m here to kick their arses.”

John is once again bluffing, puffing his chest like some peacock. He is making himself look tougher then he actually is. It’s what all guys in Liverpool need to do if they want to survive. Paul too had to do it from time to time, when charming his way out of trouble didn’t work.

“Why’d you come to America to do that? You’d have more luck finding these arseholes in Germany.”

“Been there, done that,” John announces, which isn’t technically a lie. John did go to Hamburg but not to kick Nazi’s arses. “Now I’ve come to punch some Nazi’s over here.”

“Well, good luck with that.” Having voiced his retort, the man turns around again.

The remainder of the train journey is uneventful and at four o’clock, Paul and John arrive at the new hotel. For the first time, a note is already waiting for them in their hotel room.

John drops his luggage and runs towards the bed, where HYDRA has left the note on the pillow.

“Shit,” he suddenly exclaims.

Paul turns his head so suddenly that he gives himself whiplash. He quickly dumps his luggage on the floor and hurries towards John’s side while rubbing his neck. “What is it?”

“Cyn’s pregnant.” There’s awe as well as fear in John’s voice. “If I don’t cooperate or if I try to break Cyn and Goerge out, they’re going to kill my kid.”

Paul lays a hand on John’s shoulder and John turns around. There are tears in his eyes and for a moment, the naked fear and heartbreak that Paul had told him to hide, is now visible for him to see.

And John, he starts crying.

Paul pulls him into his arms and sits down on the bed, taking John with him. He doesn’t say anything, just lets John cry on his shoulder. For the moment, John is allowed to be vulnerable.

Paul can feel tears prick in the corners of his own eyes. His own desperation and sadness are rushing towards the surface. His arms tighten around John and Paul too starts to cry.

Maybe this was a bad idea. Maybe they should’ve left this to the cops. They’re only normal man, they’re no superheroes, despite what these lunatics think. It’s madness to think John and Paul can take on HYDRA, even in its present state.

For a moment, Paul let’s desperation take over. Only this once, does he allow his doubts to gnaw away at his confidence.


	7. The Long And Winding Road

**Day 7**

 

This small town stretched out in front of them is not the place of the stronghold either. Kansas City isn’t probably either, John thinks. It’s why he and Paul have been given so many days to surrender to HYDRA.

Now, more than ever John wishes they didn’t have to do this, running from one place to another. His girlfriend is pregnant, he needs to be by her side. He wants to tell her he’s going to be there for her and their child. He isn’t going to be like his father.

His irritation makes him walk faster. Paul doesn’t complain, just increases his pace. They haven’t talked about it yet. Their breakdown or John’s child. They had pretended that nothing had changed that night while they eat their breakfast and neither of them had brought it up when they’d sat in the train. 

The road is stretched out in front of John and Paul, an endless stretch of dusty torture. Next to the road is a wasteland. Sand and dry shrubberies as far as the eye can see. It’s hostile and the sky is not much better. The sun is beating down on the two friends with unrelating heat. They are not in England anymore.

This is the kind of landscape those country artists get inspired by, John is sure. It’s the kind of background you see in the movies. This is the old America. If he had been here for other reasons, he might have enjoyed the sight.

For a moment, John feels alone. It’s only him versus this country. He can feel desperation crawl from his stomach towards his throat. But before the emotion can overwhelm him, a hand finds a place on his shoulder. Paul is next to him.

“Are you okay?” Paul asks, voice careful.

“Yes. I’m alright,” John assures him, though he doesn’t sound convinced himself.

“What _were_ you thinking about?”

John can’t really answer that question. He hadn’t really been thinking of something. He just looked. And felt. You can’t explain a feeling. Not really.

“I was thinking about Cyn. And the baby.” It is what he had been thinking about before his emotions had taken over. “She’s in some dark cell without any proper medical care.”

John doesn’t have any idea what would constitute proper medical care but he knows she needs _some_ type of medical care. He doubts the nutjobs who kidnapped his girlfriend know more than he does. And both Cyn and the baby are going to suffer because of it.

“And I need to tell her I want to raise our baby. She’s probably thinking I’ll abandon her and she needs to know I won’t.” John can hear the desperation in his voice. Has John lost his ability to hide his emotions from Paul after having given in to them last night?

“I understand you’re worried but I won’t help Cyn or you.” Paul’s voice is steady as is his gaze as he looks at John. His other hand has found its way to John’s other shoulder. The wind is now the only thing moving down the road. “When we’re at the stronghold, you can ensure that Cyn gets all the medical help she needs. You can make demands. _They_ are the ones that want you, not the other way around.”

Paul is right. Of course, he is. It doesn’t serve anybody if John gives in to despair or even worry. He needs to keep a cool head. They need to get to the stronghold as fast as possible.

When they finally reach the small village, it suddenly feels like everybody is staring at John. Which of course is ridiculous. Why would they? John doesn’t look like anything special.

Because John is sure that his imagination is running away with him – he blames the shock of finding out he’s going to be a daddy – he doesn’t react to the sound of someone softly calling his name.

But then Paul stops walking and peers into the dark alley they just walked past. He has a frown on his face. “Who’s there?”

“It’s Moonman. I need to talk to John Lennon,” the voice whispers harshly.

Who the hell Moonman and what does he want from John? And who the hell calls himself Moonman? It sounds like something someone came up with when they were nine years old.

“I’m John. What’s it to you?” John barks. He wants to go to the hotel, not chat with some stranger who is chuckling in the shadows. “How do you know my name?”

Could it be that this Moonman is someone from that organization SHIELD? If he is, John and Paul and the people they’re trying to save are in big trouble.

“I want to offer you my help. I can shadow you and come to the rescue if you need me to. I know you’re going to try to break out the people that HYDRA is keeping prisoner.”

How the hell does this guy know what John is planning? Has he overheard Paul and John when they came up with the plan? Had he hidden in plain sight?

“How’d you know?” Paul has asked the question before John can.

“Because he’s the son of Captain America. Saving people is in his blood, surrender is not.”

“I’m not Captain America’s son,” John hisses. Suddenly a thought occurs to him that causes fear to grab a hold of John’s heart. “You are HYDRA, aren’t you? You’re here to tests us, see if we try to get help.”

“I’m not HYDRA.” The man spits out the last word. “I’m the good guy. I came here to ask you if you want my help, even though SHIELD has forbidden me to do so.”

“Why are you not allowed to offer us help?” Paul asks confused.

“Because it would put the prisoners in danger. HYDRA is not supposed to know that we’re shadowing you. SHIELD wants you to lead them to the HYDRA stronghold and then they’ll rescue you.”

“We don’t need your help. Or the help of SHIELD. Why don’t you just leave us alone? It’s because of you that we need to crisscross the country before we’re allowed to go to the stronghold. “ John is all but yelling at the still hidden man. The only thing keeping him from raising his voice is the risk of anyone overhearing him.

“You won’t get your friend and girlfriend out without our help. You may be Captain America’s son but you lack his training, his strategic mind,” the man hisses.

“Why the hell do you keep saying I’m Captain America’s son? My father’s name is Fred Lennon.”

“No. it’s not. SHIELD has or rather had letters your mother wrote to Captain America and in them, she told him she was with child. You’re that child.”

His mother and Captain America? They had sex? John doesn’t really know how to feel about this. He doesn’t doubt that this man is telling the truth. It explains why HYDRA thinks he’s Captain America’s son.

But he can’t be. John can’t be the baby mentioned in the letters. Captain America had super powers, that much John knows about him. John doesn’t have any superpowers. He is nothing special. It must be a sibling who his mother put up for adoption. It was probably the girl that spoilt the chance of John’s parents ever getting back together. John’s father hadn’t loved John’s mother or John himself enough to take his mother back after she was with child from another man.

John could tell the man this but he doesn’t really feel like it. Every second they spend talking to Moonman, the chance of HYDRA finding out increases. John has to put a stop to this.

“Even if you’re right, I still don’t want your help,” John declares. “Now if you don’t mind, we’re going to our hotel room.”

“You’re going to regret this,” the man hiding in the alley warns.

“No, I won’t,” John replies and walks away.

The whole way to the hotel, neither John or Paul say anything. John is short-tempered when he asks for the key to their hotel room. He almost flies over the counter to strangle the front desk clerk, but then Paul butts in and defuses the situation.

Like all the others they have slept in these past few days, this hotel room is small. There isn’t a balcony or enough towels for that matter. John is going to have to tell that irritating front desk clerk that they need another towel in their room.

Great.

The view is nothing special. Just a road and a couple of storefronts. There is a butcher, a bookstore, a bakery and what looks like the headquarters of a local paper. There isn’t probably anything interesting in such a paper.

The window feels cold as John leans his forehead against the glass. It fogs up as he breaths out.

“So, you’re Captain America’s son,” Paul says, the tone of his voice not all that serious. Paul doesn’t know what to believe either.

“I’m not his son. I don’t have special powers. His son should have them.” John straightens and turns to Paul. “It’s probably some sibling I don’t know about.”

“But what if your powers are dormant? What if your powers are activated when you reach a certain age or when you experience something?” Paul asks. John can see in his eyes that this isn’t Paul playing devil’s advocate. He really thinks this might be a possibility.

“Then I am Captain America and my whole life has been a lie.”

If John’s friends could see him now, acting like a girl, whining about how unfair the world is. They would probably call him a pussy. But of course, Paul doesn’t. His and Paul’s friendship has always been different. He feels like he can be himself when he’s around Paul. The only other person he had this with was Stu.

“And if you are. What are you going to do then?”

John hasn’t thought about this. As he never believed that he was, in fact, the Captain’s son, he didn’t have to. But he doesn’t have to think long about the answer, of course.

“I’m going to do nothing. I’m not going to leave the band and start a career as a superhero.” John snickers as he looks at Paul with eyes that have a hint of humor. “Can you imagine me as a superhero? That’s just stupid.”

“Why is it stupid? Not that I think you should be a superhero. We can’t really replace you. And my songs aren’t half as good without your help either.” One of the corners of Paul’s mouth travels upwards as he waits for John’s reply.

“Because I don’t like saving people. It isn’t me,” John admits. He carefully watches Paul’s face for a reaction to his revelation.

“And what do you call this?” Paul asks, one eyebrow raised.

“Saving people I care about. People who are in danger because of me.”

Does Paul really think that he’s someone who likes being a hero, someone who is willing to risk his own life to save others? Where the hell did he get that idea?

“I think you are kinder than you give yourself credit for.”

The intensity in Paul’s eyes is making John uncomfortable. He quickly looks away. “Even if you’re right, I’m still not going to be a superhero. I’m going to be a rockstar. Making music is the only thing I want.”

—

For some reason, the guards have removed his restraints. They had come into the cell two days ago and had released George from his manacles. At first, George had thought they did it because they were going to kill him but they had left him in his cell.

Well, they are going to regret they unshackled him. He’s going to escape. He just needs to get the keys from the sleeping guard. The fool had fallen asleep up against the cell door. All Goerge has to do is put his hands between the bars and get the keys that are attached to his belt.

With careful steps, as not to wake the guard, George walks towards the door. His hand trembles as he puts them between the bars and fumbles for the keys. He lets out a soft yelp of triumph when he has unhooked the keys from the guard’s belt.

George retracts his hand before once again putting it between the bars at a spot closer to the lock. He puts the key in the lock and unlocks the door.

Now comes the tricky part. If he opens the door, the guard will fall into the cell and wake up. George has to either be very quick or knock the guard out. He doesn’t really have anything he can beat the guard unconscious with, so George has to jump over the guard before he gets his bearing.

With a rapidly beating heart, George positions himself right next to the door and opens it.

The guard crashes to the ground and a split second later, George jumps across the body of the stupefied guard. Much to Goerge’s surprise, the guard doesn’t raise the alarm. Maybe his head has hit the floor so hard that he’s now unconscious. George doesn’t have time to check. He needs to get to Cynthia.

There aren’t any guards in the hallways, which should alarm Goerge but he’s too focused on finding out in which room they are holding Cynthia to think about it. He looks into one room after another, skipping the ones where he can hear a male voice coming from. After every room that’s empty, George loses a bit of his sanity.

“Are you looking for Cynthia?” a voice suddenly asks.

A cold chill runs down George’s spine. He’s been caught. His hands tremble as he turns around. It is the Führer. And he’s looking far too pleased with himself. “Let me take you to her.”

“What did you do to her?” George asks with a trembling voice.

“We look after her. She has her own room and all the medical care she needs. You can see for yourself.”

He gestures for George to follow him and George does.

The room that HYDRA is keeping Cynthia in is close by. Two minutes later, George is able to see for himself that Cynthia is alright.

She runs to him as soon as she lays her eyes on him. She looks elated when she falls into his arms.

“I demanded they let you go. I wasn’t sure they would,” Cynthia murmurs into where she has pressed her face against George’s shoulder.

He closes his eyes for a minute, takes in the relief, the wonderful feeling of having Cynthia in his arms. He’s holding her close, his arm is around her waist, and he doesn’t want to ever let go.

“They didn’t let me go. I escaped,” George corrects Cynthia.

With eyes that are wide with surprise, Cynthia leans back and looks at George like she can’t believe he could break out of a prison. George can’t blame her. He didn’t know he had it in him either until today.

“Do you really zhink you would’ve been able to escape from prison if we hadn’t let you?” The Führer asks from where he’s standing to the side. He’s looking at them with his cold eyes and a smile of amusement on his lips.

“Let me?” George asks. His forehead is creased with confusion. “What are you…Why would you…”

“I wanted to show Cynthia zhat everything here happens by our leave.” The smile disappears from his lips. And then within seconds, he’s at Cynthia’s side. She lets out a yelp of pain when he grabs her arm and drags her away.

“Let go of her,” George yells and he moves to save Cynthia from the Führer’s iron grip.

But the Fúhrer is having none of it. “You stay away!” He growls.

He grabs a hold of both of Cynthia’s arms and turns her so she’s facing him. His fingers make her skin turn white and force tears from the corners of her eyes. The sight breaks George’s heart.

“You need to learn zhat you don’t have any power here,” the Führer says through clenched teeth. “I am the one who holds all zhe cards. You don’t make demands, we do. Is zhit clear?”

“Yes. Please let me go.” Cynthia’s voice is barely audible. She sounds small, scared.

“Please, let me stay with Cynthia. I promise I won’t try to escape if you let me be with her.” If the boss doesn’t react well to demands, maybe he’ll listen to pleas.

The Führer lets go of Cynthia, eliciting a whimper of relief from her. He turns to George with a sneer on his lips. “Or I could just kill you if you try to escape again.”

“No!” Cynthia exclaims. Both George and the Führer turn to face her in surprise. She looks at the boss with angry eyes. “Killing George would really upset me. That can’t be good for the baby. If you want a healthy mascot, you don’t hurt him.”

Cynthia is stronger then George thought she was. Her she is, demanding that her kidnapper doesn’t harm George after he hurt her to teach her that she shouldn’t tell him what to do. George can feel pride glow in his chest.

Wait, did she say mascot?


	8. Money (That’s What I Want)

**Day 8**

There is no rest for the wicked. Though, Paul wouldn’t necessarily count him and John among the wicked. But they probably are to HYDRA.

Once again, they have to travel. This time to Oklahoma. It is going to take them six hours to get there. Right now, they’re waiting for the train to arrive. John hasn’t stopped looking around for SHIELD agents or superheroes who have taken it into their head to try to talk to them.

The encounter yesterday has John shook and Paul can’t blame him. The superhero had all but confirmed that John is actually indeed Captain America’s son. They haven’t talked about it yet, not that there is much to talk about. Both SHIELD and HYDRA may think that John is the Captain’s progeny but John still doesn’t believe it. He would probably not even believe it if it was proven with a DNA test.

Paul doesn’t know himself if he believes it. It just seems too strange, too unbelievable. The story John’s mother and aunt told him was much more plausible. But still… There is a reason why these two organizations believe that John has another legacy. Surely, SHIELD and HYDRA wouldn’t have just believed the letters. They would have investigated the claims.

“Fuck.” John curses. He jabs Paul with his elbow.

“What is it?” Paul hisses while he rubs his side. John has really sharp elbows.

“You think that bloke is following us?” John asks Paul under his breath. He’s looking at a man who’s reading a newspaper with sunglasses on, which would look suspicious in England but in the South of the US, not so much.

“Can’t really say he’s following us if we’re not moving,” Paul jokes, hoping it will make John realize he’s being paranoid.

“You know what I mean,” John grumbles. He’s still staring at the man. He’s probably going to notice John staring soon.

“No John, I don’t think he’s here for anything other than to catch the train. He’s too obvious.”

Paul isn’t going to deny that there isn’t a chance that they’re going to be followed today. Someone from HYDRA may have seen them talk to Moonman and has decided to follow them to find out if other superheroes are going to try to offer them their help. But a HYDRA agent wouldn’t be so obvious. He would hide in the shadows.

“Yeah. You’re probably right,” John murmurs. It still takes him a few beats to tear his eyes away from the man. “You think they saw us?”

“I don’t know,” Paul admits with a sigh. “But it does no good to worry about it. We’re just going to have to ignore people if they try to help us.”

The train chooses that moment to arrive in the station. Paul and John quickly grab their luggage and board the train. There aren’t many people seated on the train benches or filing into the compartments so Paul and John can sit next to each other.

Within two minutes, the train leaves the station. It slowly makes it way past fields and mountains as John and Paul sit silently next to each other. Paul is mainly preoccupied with worrying about Cynthia’s and George’s safety but his thoughts sometimes wander to the money and the quick rate at which they’re spending it. Paul doesn’t know how many more days they can spend money on train tickets, food, and hotel rooms before they run out of money. The letter at the crime scene said they had two days to get to the stronghold. There is a chance that they’ll have spent all the money before the remaining days have passed. Paul isn’t going to tell John this, of course. He has enough to worry about already.

When the train arrives in Oklahoma, Paul’s stomach is not happy with him. It wants to be fed. It’s going to have to wait until he and John are able to go out to buy dinner. From here on out, they are only going to eat breakfast and dinner.

They, together with a steady stream of strangers elight onto the platform of the busy station. It’s a stark contrast to the station they had left this morning. Oklahoma is clearly a city, not a town.

The city itself isn’t any better. People are yelling at each other, cars honk at other cars, men and women who walk past Paul and John jostle them as they make their way to wherever they’re going.

“Fuck,” John curses, quite loudly but his outburst gets lost in the cacophony of the city. “If one more person touches me, I’m going to murder them.”

Paul is irritated himself, so he doesn’t tell John to calm down. He’s tired, hot and doesn’t want anything more than to crawl into bed. Luckily, the hotel isn’t far away.

It really is unfortunate that HYDRA decides where Paul and Jon stay the night or they could have stayed at a hostel. It would help with their money problem. But as it is, they’re once again on their way to a hotel that will suck up even more of their money.

Suddenly, a scream erupts from an alley and both Paul and John stop dead in their tracks. The people who walk past them turn their heads to look at what has elicited the scream but then they move on. Apparently, they think what John and Paul see is normal.

Paul doesn’t think it’s normal. Not at all. And neither does John. Of course not.

“Hey. Leave that girl alone,” he yells.

There are three white men, who have a black woman trapped against a wall. Her lip is bleeding and her eyes are filled with tears. The sight fills Paul with rage.

“Fuck off,” one of the men barks at him. He glares at John.

John ignores the men, of course. Rather, he takes the warning as an invitation to get even more involved. He makes his way through the throng of people walking past him and walks into the alley. Paul follows him with a rapidly beating heart.

They are used to this. In the Pool, there are men like this, people looking for a fight. Sometimes, John is one of them. Or Paul. Paul usually likes the solve conflict with humor but he has no scruples with using his fists.

“What the fuck did I say?” the same man warns again. He extracts himself from the group and walks toward John with an angry look on his face. He has brown hair that’s been cut in a military hairstyle and brown eyes are so small that they make him look like a pig. His skin is slightly darker than Paul and John’s, which is the case with most Americans.

“What the fuck did  _I_  say?” John asks in an icy voice. “Leave the woman alone and I will fuck off.”

“Who the hell do you think you are, sticking your faggot nose into our business?” The hands of the man are balled into fists. He’s preparing for a fight. Paul does the same.

“I’m a decent human being, unlike you,” is John’s biting retort.

“I’m a decent human being,” the man spits. “I’m just teaching this colored girl a lesson.”

“What’s done wrong, then? That you need to beat her up?” Paul challenges.

“She thinks it’s okay to lust after my friend. She thinks they’re no consequences when she tries to seduce him.”

“Is your friend one of these men forcing her against the wall?” John asks. His eyes are narrowed as he looks at the other men holding the woman prisoner. “If he is, I don’t know what she sees in him.”

“You fuckhead,” the man curses and he lunches for John.

With reflexes Paul didn’t know John had, he dodges his fists. He retaliates with a fist against the side of the head of the other man. With a scream of pain, the man falls to the pavement. Which shows just how much of a wimp the man is.

The other men are no longer interested in the girl. As she runs away, they run towards John, who only has enough time to look up in surprise before the two men are on him.

Paul moves to help his mate but then realizes John doesn’t need his help. John already has punched one of the guys in his stomach – who is now lying whimpering on the ground – and his now fighting the other guy.

This other guy is a more skilled fighter than the other two. He dodges John when he tries to bring him down the same way as he had done with his friend.

“You’re gonna regret messing with me,” the man announces as he keeps dodging John’s blows. There’s a look of glee on his face like he’s going to enjoy teaching John a lesson.

“I doubt that,” John fires back.

Suddenly, the man makes a move. He moves his fist in the direction of John’s head, but John dodges him.

John tries once again to punch him in the stomach but like last time, he misses. Instead, he p[punches the wall. Paul flinches but strangely enough, John doesn’t. Instead, there is a look of surprise on his face.

“That didn’t hurt,” he tells Paul breathlessly. He moves his hand and Paul can see there is a crater in the wall.

“Fuck.” It is the assailant who has let out the exclamation. He's watching the dent that John has just made in the wall with a flabbergasted expression on his face.

John turns to his opponent and schools his expression into one of defiance. “If you don’t want your skull to look the same, I suggest you run away.”

The man doesn’t have to be told twice. He runs.

“Fuck,” John curses. He turns to Paul. “Did you see that?”

“That was hard to miss,” Paul tells John as a breathless laugh escapes his lips. He points to the dent in the wall with a trembling hand. “You fucking broke a wall.”

Suddenly, Paul realizes John might be hurt. He quickly grabs John’s hand and starts inspecting it. There are no cuts or bruises. When Paul traces John’s knuckles the other man hisses but when Paul’s head shoots up, John tells him, “It doesn’t hurt.”

“So, nothing’s broken,” Paul concludes, his voice breathless much to his mortification. “That’s good.”

He quickly lets go of John’s hand. “Let’s go find the hotel. I’m knackered.”

\---

No one has come for Cynthia. They hadn’t come for her yesterday either. They need her to rest, to take things slow until the baby is born.

“I can’t believe I’m saying this, but I’m bored,” she announces to George, who is sitting on the sofa while he reads a book.

He looks up from the page that his eyes have been stuck on for the past half hour. Cynthia knows because she had been staring at him. It had been more entertaining than staring at the ceiling.

“Maybe you can ask them if they’ll let you have some paper and a pencil. You should tell them drawing will help you relax,” George proposes and he smiles at her. “They’ll probably give you anything you ask. That baby is a good bargaining chip.”

“My baby is not a bargaining chip!” Cynthia exclaims angrily. “He’s not a  _thing_.”

“Of course not. Of course not,” George says quickly. He jumps up from the couch and hastens to Cynthia’s side. “I didn’t mean to upset you.”

“HYDRA already sees my baby as a thing, as something they can use. You can’t think the same way.” Tears have started to stream down her cheeks. Stupid hormones.

“I don’t think of the baby that way, I promise,” George assures Cynthia. He sits down next to her on the bed and takes her into his arms.

“I’m sorry. I’m sorry,” Cynthia apologizes as she presses her face against George’s shoulders.

“It’s okay,” Goerge promises. Cynthia can feel him kiss the top of her head. It makes something flutter in Cynthia’s chest.

Suddenly, George's arms that he has wrapped around Cynthia feel stronger, warmer. She can hear his heart beat against her ear. His heartbeat is rapid.

“George…” Cynthia looks up and the words die inside her throat. Their mouths are merely inches away from each other.

And Cynthia closes the distance.

George’s lips feel cool against hers. And soft, so soft. 

And immobile.

With shame heating her cheeks, Cynthia moves away but then she feels George's hand at the back of her head and he’s pulling her back in.

His lips are careful as he moves them against hers. Either he has never thought about kissing her before or he has thought of it too many times.

“You don’t have to be careful,” Cynthia whispers against George’s lips. “I’m not made of glass.”

Apparently, George doesn’t have to be told twice. His mouth starts moving against Cynthia’s in earnest and his tongue slips between her lips.

All thoughts leave Cynthia’s head. The only things she is able to think about for the next couple of minutes is how wonderful of a kisser George is and how the things he does with his tongue is making her head spin.

“Shit,” George curses when he comes back up for air. Cynthia has no idea how long they have just spent kissing.

With Goerge’s exclamation, the realization of what they have just done comes crashing down on Cynthia. She has just kissed her boyfriend’s friend. Her very jealous boyfriend. Cynthia and John’s perceived rivals have been on the receiving end of John’s fists before. But Cynthia had never kissed those boys. She has kissed George.

“He’s going to kill us,” Cynthia says breathlessly as she looks at George with scared eyes. “This can never happen again. And we can’t ever tell him either.”

“Wasn’t planning on,” George mutters. He drags a hand through his hair, ruffling the black strands.

He is looking at her with kind eyes. His hand is no longer on the back of her head, having found its way to her shoulder. He squeezes it in an effort to stop her from freaking out.

Is it any wonder that Cynthia had kissed George. He’s being so kind, looking after her like a real man. And he isn’t bad to look at either. His eyes are a warm brown, his cheekbones look like they’re able to cut glass and when he smiles…

Cynthia has always understood why George never had trouble finding girlfriends or girls to sleep with. But she had never counted herself amongst the girls who wanted to kiss him. He had always been like a little brother to her.

But now things have changed. Now Cynthia wants to kiss Goerge again. She wants his hands on her. She wants to bury her hands in his hair.

“I should probably go sit on the couch,” Goerge murmurs. He doesn’t look away or moves.

“You probably should,” is Cynthia’s hoarse reply.

She turns her head away. It'll make it easier for George.

The bed dips as George rises. Cynthia’s eyes remain fixed on her hands as George walks towards the couch and sits down. She can hear the rustling of pages as George picks up his book. Only then does Cynthia dare look up.

George is once again reading the page he abandoned in exchange for Cynthia’s attention. Her eyes go to the ceiling and remain there.

 


End file.
